Light in Dark
by Unremarked
Summary: Ken couldn't save Ryo from the Dark Seed. A look into a future where Ryo threatens the Digital World, rather than Ken. What happens when the Hero becomes the Villain?
1. One

**Author's Note and Disclaimer: **I do not own Digimon, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure 02, or any of the characters depicted.  However, the storyline is completely mine and I do not want to see it replicated without my expressed permission.  The characters, as they exist within my storyline, are also mine and I do not want to see them replicated permission as well.

Throughout the entire fanfiction there are references to stories written by another author, a good friend of mine known as M.C. Zarrella.   She also helped me edit the final product before it was posted on this website.  I highly suggest you go and read her stories, as they are far better than mine.  Her story, "Impromptu," is an almost direct prequel.  Sit back and enjoy.

Please leave a review.

**DEDICATED TO:  M.C. ZARRELLA**

without whom this fic would have never taken flight;

without whom this fic would have never gotten height.

*** * * * * *******

**LIGHT IN DARK**

*** * * * * ***

Bellicose screams drowned into small whimpers of defeat and death.  Victorious figures stood and watched as the crumpled heap of the once proud Dark God broke up into bits.  Digital makeup spiraled into the air, racing toward the clouds like evaporating water droplets just begging to be reformed and shed again."

A sky blue reptile, Veemon, ran up to and hugged a forest green worm; he even went so far as to throw the insect creature into the air in celebration.  Two others, these ones human, stood solemnly; the tallest had his fists still clenched at his sides.  Was it over?  Was it done?  Hope-laced questions raced through his mind like a train.  The smaller human was happy; he wore a genuine smile.

"We did it, Ryo-sama," he said.

"Yeah, Ken, it's finally finished.  We can go home."  Ryo tried to sound pleased; he even forced on a supercilious grin as he stared out at the dull desert, eyes wandering over the fallen creature's melting form.  "Let's go."

Ken refused to take his eyes off it, fearful that what little still remained could rise up again to kill them all.

Ryo turned away from the body; Veemon and Wormmon followed like loyal foot soldiers.  The Ichijouji's gaze lingered a bit longer, like a fragnance fighting not to leave a room; he then fell into rank and brought up the rear.

A shadow eclipsed the leaving party; a defiant roar echoed.

Millenniumon screamed his last breath, and exploded into fragments.  Little black objects, the maybe the size of pennies, flew from his former body. The spores headed straight for Ryo.  Ken saw his chance: his one chance to save Ryo instead of the other way around.  His one chance to be the hero.  He took it.

"Ryo-sama, watch out!"

*****          

_NO!_

*****

It had been a week since they had last inhabited the Digital World – seven days since they had been scoured by hot sand blown around by the wind.  Sand got into everything, up to and including their eyes.  Ken never forgot how Ryo marched through it all with little to no thought about his own pain.  The only time he had stopped was when Ken was hurt or in trouble.

The little Ichijouji watched his brother and Ryo through an expanding soap bubble.  They were playing soccer together.  He had wanted to join in, but they always worked together to keep him from participating, so he only pouted and found a place to sit in the shade.

"I only want to play worthy opponents, Ken," Ryo said before, wearing an arrogant sort of grin on his face.

Osamu then scoffed at Ryo's ego and mumbled something about how Ken would probably play better than his current opponent; Ken hadn't paid attention, for as soon as Ryo said no, he started looking for a place to sit and watch.

Ken basked under the three, glad to be in the shade and away from the sun.  He was happy to see green grass since it was so different from the Digital Desert's sand that he and Ryo had wandered across for months.  The only thing he missed about the Digital World was Ryo's attention: the older boy had begun to play with him less and less since returning to the real world.

Through his soapy sphere Ken watched the deformed figures of Ryo and Osamu, their heads appearing far too big to fit on their bodies, run around chasing a little speck of a ball.  His mommy had taught them both how to play, but Osamu seemed to pick it up faster and with more skill than Ken ever had – just as he did with everything else.

Osamu was good, as said, but Ryo was eating him alive.  Ken had never seen Ryo move so swiftly, had never seen him exercise so much precision until every step seemed carefully planned out far in advance.  Osamu scrambled around the field wildly like a headless chicken on a panicked rampage.  Ken giggled and enjoyed watching his brother finally lose at something.

Ryo dribbled the ball and feinted to the left.  Osamu fell for it and shifted his balance that way.  Ryo tore right and laughed as Osamu's feet slid once he understood the trick and tried to change direction.  Osamu kept himself from falling by planting his hand on the ground; he stayed that way for a moment, glaring, and then stood again.

 "When did… you... learn to play so well?" Osamu demanded, hunched over with his hands atop his knees.  He breathed deeply as he tried to steady himself.

Ryo shrugged nonchalantly with a vainglorious smile.  He wasn't winded even the slightest bit and juggled the ball as he waited patiently for Osamu to be ready again. 

His pride wounded, Osamu's face erupted with fury – a fury that Ken had never seen before.  Osamu charged at Ryo once the ball hit the ground again; he went in for a slide tackle, but to both his and Ken's amazement, Ryo acted as if he had predicted it.  Ryo rolled the ball up onto the top of his foot and gave it a little lift as Osamu came at him.

The black-and-white checkered sphere slammed into Osamu's forehead.  His forward motion stopped and he fell flat on his back, undoubtedly seeing little tweeting birdies fly around his head.  After the ball rebounded into the air, it landed on Osamu's chest.

Ryo laughed at him.  "Good job, Osamu!  You finally got the ball."

Osamu coughed and rolled over; his head throbbed and spun.  His breath was hard to catch again.  When he tried to reply to Ryo's laughter, he managed only to produce grumbles as he rolled around on the ground.  He then tried to stand, but only made it onto one knee.

"What's the matter, Osamu?  I thought you were the best."  Ryo's laughter had stopped and an audacious smile was back on his face.  "Look at you – on the ground like a little INSECT.  I'm ashamed to call you my friend.  Get up."  Osamu tried to stand again, and fell.  His balance had not yet recovered from the soccer ball's blow. "Oi, Ken!  Come pick up the broken pieces of your brother.  He's of no more use to me."

Ken had to use a hand to close his jaw, which hung open far enough to catch even a bird.  The spectacle he had just witnessed between his brother and Ryo… did that actually happen?  He couldn't believe it.  The once-proud Osamu had been reduced to nothing before Ryo's feet.  On unsteady knobby knees, Ken stood up and lumbered his way over to his older brother.  He tried to help, but Osamu shoved him away; Ken fell down heavily.

"What's the big idea, Ryo?!"  Osamu had regained his voice and the most of his sense of balance.  Back on his feet, he only had to take a few small steps to remain steady.  His glare pierced Ryo's uppity stare and alighted upon Ryo's infuriating little smile.

"You really shouldn't try to head a ball when you're doing a slide tackle," Ryo said and shook his head, speaking to Osamu as though he were some disobedient child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"You know as well as I do that you hit me on purpose!"  Osamu's angry shout grew louder when Ryo insinuated that there was no room for pointing fingers.  His knuckles were white and his fingernails dug into the palms of his hands.  Ken briefly worried over Osamu growing angry enough to attempt striking Ryo.

 "Why would I want to do something like that, my friend?"  Innocence dripped from Ryo's words like honey.  Ken looked from Osamu to Ryo and back again; his little mind frantically searched for what he thought needed to be said to stop their quarreling.  He didn't want Ryo to get hurt – he'd save him.

"Ryo, you –!"

"Onii-san, can we go get some ice cream now?" Ken spoke up, still seated where Osamu had pushed him down.

Osamu turned his attention away from Ryo and glared at his little brother, daring him to ask again.  Ken's speaking had had the opposite effect than was hoped for; it only seemed to make Osamu angrier.

"Might as well take him, Osamu.  That's all your good for: a little errand boy.  I have things I have to go do.  See ya, Ken.  Be good."  Ryo gave Ken a two-finger wave as turned and walked off.  That soccer ball that had been instrumental moments before rested like a forgotten, fallen soldier.****

*****

... _RYO-SAMA! ... the taste of sand in his mouth... it was bitter... like the taste of..._

*****

Osamu mumbled insults and refused to look at Ken on the walk home.  Ken decided it better not to ask him about the ice cream again while he was in a bad mood.  He would just have to get some from Mom, so long as Dad hadn't eaten it all already.

The apartment's door opened and then slammed shut several times until the catch caught; each bang was louder than the last and reverberated throughout the household.

Mom and Dad weren't home; otherwise they would ask why Osamu was stomping through the house, shoving things away until he got to his room.  That door suffered the same fate as the one in the front room.  He shouted something at Ken about not wanting to be disturbed before disappearing like a troll into its cave.

Ken took a seat on his couch; little legs stretched out in an attempt to rest them on the coffee table between his seat and the TV, just like he had seen Osamu and Dad do.  In his imagination, he watched Ryo do the same mature thing at home.

Odd sounds came from their room; it sounded as though Osamu were wrecking the place.  Ken tried to ignore that by turning on the television.  He flipped through the channels, pausing on the cartoons he liked before moving on again.

One particularly loud slam against the wall made him jump.  He set down the remote, climbed off of the couch, and moved towards his room.  There he pressed his ear against the door, struggling to hear what was going on inside.  What if Osamu was under attack or something bad had happened to him?

He didn't hear any more sounds.  Ken took a deep breath; he would have to risk opening the door in order to know.  He worried about Osamu.  His small fingers curled around the knob and the door opened a fraction of an inch.  He tried to peer inside, but the room was too dark.

Osamu filled his vision as the barrier was thrown completely open.

"I said that I didn't want to be disturbed!  What part of that didn't get through your brain?!"

His angry face was incredibly tomato red.  Ken neither dared to say that nor laugh.

"I just... need to get my books.  I have homework," Ken lied, but it was believable.  Unconsciously he took a backward step, possibly two, away from his brother.

But Osamu didn't seem to believe him.

"Homework!?  Homework, huh?"  Osamu's voice took on a more sinister than aggravated tone.

He melted into the darkness and reappeared with Ken's notebook, the one he had all his assignments written in it, and glared hatefully at his brother.

"You mean this?"  He started ripping the pages out and then the pieces of paper themselves.

Ken cried out for him to stop.

"You should have thought about that before!"

He let the crumpled and dismembered pieces of paper fall to the floor, fluttering to the ground like droplets of blood.  He was killing Ken's homework – Ken's future.  Osamu swung the notebook and it caught Ken's cheek; he fell onto his rear.

"You were laughing at me earlier; I know you were!"

"No, Onii-san –!"

Ken didn't get a chance to finish his sentence:

Osamu's open hand slapped him across the face again and hit on the returning sweep as well.  Pain ripped through Ken's world like a hot knife through butter; tears welled up in his eyes and streamed down his face.

"Crying again!  You're always crying!  You're such an embarrassment!  I wish I had never had a brother!"

Osamu struck him again.  And again.  It felt good: the power he had over his brother.  Was this what Ryo felt when Osamu was at his feet?  The thought only made Osamu hit harder.  Ken curled up into a ball; arms wrapped protectively around his head.

When Osamu's arm was exhausted, he slammed the door shut again and left Ken to lie on the ground, sniffling and crying.  Later Ken dragged himself back onto the couch where he fell asleep.  Saline droplets dried on his face.****

*****

_... there he stood untouched... frozen like a statue...  YOU CAN'T!_

*****

Ken awoke with a jerk.  He swallowed; the distinct taste of copper ball bearings filled his mouth.  It reminded him of the familiar taste of blood.

A squirming warmth between his hands rasped something about not being able to breathe.

"Sorry, Wormmon."

He relaxed his grip: palm and fingertips left dark spots on the green insect's skin.  Wormmon's sigh of relief was almost as loud as a scream.

The boy became vaguely aware of the cold sweat he had broken into during the night.  A single droplet fell from the blue tendrils of his hair; the wet texture made it appear black.  Wormmon crawled back into the safety of his cavern of blankets.  He was asleep again within minutes while Ken stared at nothing in particular.

 Ken tried to carefully slide out of the bed, not wanting to disturb his partner's sleep again.  He winced when his foot touched the ground and weight was applied to it: he favored his right leg in a limp to the bathroom.  A switch clicked and light brought life to the room that smelled strongly of bleach.  Gingerly, he lifted the top of his black and white pajamas – checkered like a soccer ball – and flinched due to the fresh wounds that marked his chest and stomach.

New purple-blue bruises replaced the ones that had tried to fade.  A three-inch gash by his lower rib cage, stitched up with uncanny surgical precision, caught most of his attention.

"Another scar," he muttered.

It was still early.  Ken let the thin material fall back down.  He lumbered back into his bedroom; he quietly pulled drawers open to avoid the squeaking that could alert the other occupants in the room.  Gray uniforms sat in neatly folded and compressed squares.  Ken chose one without debate – each was dull and devoid of color – and headed to the bathroom again.

With the door closed, he relieved himself of the pajamas entirely.  He stepped into the shower and pulled the drapes around him.  To avoid any sort of noise from escaping when the water hit and stung his battered body, he bit his bottom lip and accidentally drew the taste of blood again.  He was in and out as fast possible: it was a spit-shower, really.  While drying and clothing himself, he tried to prevent any more pain from ravaging his tender nerves.

Ken's eyes almost met a pair exactly like his in the mirror, but he draped a wash towel over it.  He didn't want to see his own reflection.  The steam from the shower started to subside; it filtered out through a gap at the bottom of the bathroom door.

He switched off the light and let darkness envelop the room; he stood there quietly.  It was a moment or two before his hands fumbled for the knob and the door came open.  He stepped outside into the hallway.  Osamu was still asleep, he noticed, sneaking a peek into his room.  Wormmon must be too.  He waited for them in the living room, the sun's long armed rays reaching out over the horizon and through the windows.__

Sometime during Ken's watching of the sunrise, Osamu had aroused himself and washed up in the bathroom.  He was grumbling rather loudly and obscenely about how early in the morning their school day began.  There was even a random curse directed at Ken for not having woken him up in the first place.

When Osamu finished, the sun was fully visible in the sky, though dew on the ground had yet to evaporate.  They left their cozy little apartment, washed and dressed: Osamu's uniform was perfectly pressed and buttoned completely up to the neck; Ken's was equally as straight though his hung open at the top.

Ken carried his school supplies on his back in a tattered, old, orange bag.  It had a name on the strap that fell across his chest, but it had since been worn and scratched out.

"Why do you still use that thing?  It's filthy.  Get a new one."  Osamu said the same thing to him just about every morning.

Ken had given up trying to give Osamu a coherent reply and just settled on shrugging, staring off into the sky.  A butterfly caught his eye and he briefly wondered if it knew that it would be tacked to the bottom of his four-sectioned pinning board one day.  Of course, he didn't have time for such trivial hobbies anymore; the regret hadn't been so bad after the first year.

Abruptly, Ken's shoulder bumped into someone.  This someone had been running just seconds before and expected people to get out of the way; the ones that didn't he had been able to dodge around while still going at full speed, but he clipped Ken this time much to his disappointment.

"Hey, watch where you're going, buddy!"  His square goggles reflected light off of the glass and silver plastic.

He was gone again; Ken rubbed his shoulder and thought he could have been a figment of his imagination since Osamu didn't seem to notice anything had happened.

The schoolyard came into sight and they made it in through the gates.  Osamu lead the way as he always did: he didn't like following other people; he refused to follow other people; they could only fall in line behind him – never in front.  Students avoided his path as he marched along with smug grin on his face.  Ken brought up the rear.

Whispering mouths were pressed to intrigued ears as rumors and gossip flew like ravens to the stench of death.  Ken walked, hands tucked inside his pockets, behind Osamu.  They split off once they entered the main hall of the Tamachi school building.

Doors slid open and then closed again; the mumbling mass of students dissolved into streams that flowed into this classroom or the next.  Ken entered his own.  It was rather drab as were the majority of Tamachi's educational facilities.  The wall at the front was covered by a chalkboard; a large table for the teacher was only a few feet away from it.  The rest of the space was filled by row after row of desks.

Ken found his desk, one off in the far right corner of the room.  He sat in the same one every day, as required.  One by one, not-so-familiar faces filed in and took their seats.  A bell rung and the teacher made his grand entrance; he carried with him a stack of papers, each marked with the student's scores; he went up and down the aisles, passing them out to their respective owners.

When he reached Ken's desk, he paused.

"Ichijouji, if you do not start improving on the next test, I will have to remove you from this class.  It is becoming obvious that you are not learning, and therefore, you are wasting my time," he said and placed the paper down.

Ken glanced at it, though his mind was elsewhere.  A bright red, encircled "D" – a color that reminded him of freshly oxygenized blood – sat right next to his name.

The teacher moved on and incessant whispering started again; but they were louder this time, and no matter how much he tried to block them out, Ken caught phrases of what conversations were being held about him:

"Isn't he Osamu's brother?"

"Nah, no way... Osamu wouldn't make such low scores."

"... Maybe he's retarded or something – you think?"

"Such a waste of talent and space..."

"Why can't he be more like Osamu?"

"... He looks like a girl! ... Seriously, look at him!"

"Ha ha, I bet he even dresses up like a girl sometimes."

"I hear he still sleeps with a stuffed worm."

That last jest caused a rippled of laughter to spread through the room.  It started here; then it erupted there.  Ken felt the rage build within him.  He had to control it and not let it out here.  Bottle it up; push it down; use it to fight later.

More words floated through his ears.

"Look, he won't even stand up for himself!  Or is he just so stupid that he doesn't even know we're talking about him?"

The teacher was the only one that didn't seem to notice that this rude talk was happening.  Ken growled; his wrath leaked out.

"I think he's going to cry, Hiroshi.  Osamu says he always cries." 

Something snapped and Ken overturned his desk.  A more beast-like than human explosion erupted from his vocal chords.  He attacked.

*****

_... Why... what... why are you looking at me like that?  Ryo-sama?  RYO-SAMA?!_****

*****__

"They suspended ME for YOUR problem, Ken!"

Osamu was very disgruntled, standing in front of the television.  Ken sat on the couch, idly twirling a pencil through his fingers.  He had a fat bottom lip to show for his time in class.  It stung, but he did not mind.  It was a thankful reminder that he was still alive and quite capable of feeling.

"What the HELL were you thinking?  You attacked at least a dozen students!"

"... Pity there weren't more of them," Ken said with a nonchalant shrug.

"You stabbed that fat kid's hand with a pen!"

"He should be thanking me.  I was aiming for his throat."

Osamu's anger rose again; his voice became more erratic each time he attempted to speak.  He just shook his head and turned his back on Ken.

"I just... I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

Wormmon had since heard the commotion from his safety in their room and now came out to investigate.  He crawled to Ken's side.

"I'M even starting to get called into meetings with the administrators now."

"Funny.  I could've sworn you weren't Mom or Dad," Ken replied.  He affectionately rubbed the top of Wormmon's head.

"I'm your older brother, jackass.  And now you've become a problem enough for ME to be asked to handle it."

"I never wanted to go to Tamachi anyway, Osamu."  Wormmon gave a little squeak as Ken found a sensitive spot between his antennae where a yellow symbol took up most of his forehead; his eyes closed with the scratching.

"I didn't either.  I guess we finally have something in common.  But regardless, I don't know what to do –"

"A prodigy without a clue.  The irony is kind of delicious," Ken said, cutting him off before he had a chance to finish.

The reaction on Osamu's face was just as Ken had expected it to be: sheer fury.  Osamu hated to be cut short when he was speaking – almost as much as he hated following behind someone he thought was inferior (which was pretty much everyone).

Silence fell between them; the only connection they had was with each other's glares.  Ken had let his hand fall back into his lap.  Wormmon glanced between the two and decided that he was not going to be needed.  His energy reserves were always running so low anyway; he needed to eat and sleep, but sleep sounded better, so he started off back towards the bedroom.

"... I'm just going to have to punish you," Osamu declared, just as Wormmon was starting to cross his path.  That poor worm never saw Osamu's boot coming.  It caught the side of his exoskeleton and he flew into the wall.  "By taking away your precious pet –"

Ken's scream overruled Osamu's taunt.

He flung himself off of the couch and was now standing just inches away from Osamu.

"How dare you stand up to me!" Osamu yelled; his fists curled.

He took a high swing, aiming to strike Ken across his temple.  Ken's glare never left his brother's as he ducked underneath the punch and then slammed his shoulder into Osamu's chest.

Osamu stumbled backwards and yelled something.  Ken smiled; his own reply was drowned in that bright-toothed smirk.  Osamu tried a straight jab intended to break Ken's nose, but it never got far; his fist became enclosed inside his opponent's hand.  His eyes widened as he looked from his appendage to Ken; he realized his mistake very quickly.

Ken twisted the arm downward, forcing Osamu to bend at his waist towards the ground.  Osamu grunted in pain until Ken dropped his weight onto the caught elbow; Osamu's arm turned at a queer angle and his screams were soon lost in a sea of pain.  Ken almost seemed to revel in it before he kneed Osamu's face, whose body then fell limp with unconsciousness.

Ken let him fall to the ground.

"Don't touch Wormmon."

He carefully stepped over Osamu's fallen form.  Wormmon winced and crawled towards him; his partner took a knee and let the Digimon crawl into his outstretch arms.  The worm again took his usual perch on Ken's right shoulder.  He quietly questioned about Osamu's well-being.

"He'll be alright… they'll have to reset the bone, but he'll live."

He made his way back into their bedroom, hands already stuffed deep inside his pockets.  His right hand emerged again, holding a black device.  He pointed it at the computer monitor.  It blinked to life and a peculiar program, one that would no doubt intrigue Osamu if he were ever to become aware of it, filled the screen.  Strong white light jettisoned from the computer and then Ken was no longer standing in the room.

He landed on hard, barren rock with the gracefulness of a tumbling centipede whose legs had been all tied together; ironically, Wormmon emerged on top of Ken unscathed.  Ken frowned, watching as the only standing tree around them burst into flame.  Off in the distance another flame appeared, then another, and another.  The signal fires around the Digital World were alerting him – someone Ken didn't want to think about right now – to their presence.

Ken felt nothing from his wounds.  Even if he had checked for them, they would not appear to him: the Digital World healed him when he became digitized.  (It only worked when coming from the real world into the Digital; the opposite way left him with the bruises in injuries he had received.)

Sunlight fought hard to filter through the organic-looking devices that hung just above the lowest cloud formations.  Walkways and tunnels connected the huge rotating islands in the sky together.  Spires jetted out from every imaginable point, both top and bottom, of the fleshy-looking substance they were made out of.

Wormmon hopped off of Ken, who then got to his feet.  His Tamachi grays had disappeared; a long-sleeved red shirt worn beneath an open, white-collared shirt replaced it.  The fabric that covered his arms was wrapped in elaborate-looking, dark velvet cords that ran from his wrists to underneath his shirt.  A buckled choker leashed his neck.  His long blue hair was pulled back into a ponytail, if only to get it out of his eyes when he tried to look around.  To complete his transformation were only black pants with matching boots.

Ken took several long glances in no particular direction, turning in a small circle.  It was as though he were a hawk on the lookout for a straying rat to swoop down upon and devour.  Wormmon's shifty eyes watched vigilantly as well.  But then Ken shook his head.  If they were going to be attacked, it would have happened already.  He stuffed his hands inside his pockets and started walking; Wormmon followed obediently.

Ken's mind boiled over with thoughts of the past day he had spent in the real world.  Going to school, the fight, his confrontation with Osamu – it all swirled in his head like a draining toilet; sometimes he wished he could just flush it all out.  The pair walked in almost absolute silence, saying nothing to each other while trying to make as little sound as possible.  The crunching of brittle rocks and the subsequent footprints that trailed in their wake were the only evidence that they had ever been there.

The ground changed as they neared their destination.  No longer was it made of dark, jagged rocked poised to rip open a reckless person's shoe; their feet walked now on top of an old patchwork quilt that was shredded and pulled up in various places.  The colors might have once been bright and lovely, but now they were just shades of gray.  Long scorch marks crisscrossed what areas weren't completely destroyed yet.

Material that had once made up baby baskets lay scattered and broken; the smaller pieces orbited the wreckage, suspended by an unknown force.  Trees still stood there, but their bark was darkened by fire and all branches bore no leaves.  Strange blood red fruit hung from the limbs; these bruised and infected berries housed little creatures; they poked their heads out to watch as Ken passed.

They were forced to alter their path when they ran into the small, unfinished fences that extended around them for various distances.  None of them were connected together since each had been so hastily constructed.  In the center stood the only green-leaved plant that still existed in the Digital World.  The large oak towered above everything by at least a hundred feet and its skin bore signs of attack.  Two creatures moved around cautiously in the shade, tending to brightly colored eggs that rested in the fallen leaves.

As Ken neared, they turned their full attentions on him.  One Digimon, smaller and lower to the ground like a little animal, growled something about not coming closer.  Ken chose not to heed his warning; he had heard it thousands of times before.  A larger, more human-like figure swept in his direction, hands pressed behind his back.  The small balls of digital data hung back and watched frightfully.

"Hello, Ken," he said in an irritated greeting.

Ken said nothing and walked past.  He sat down by the tree, resting his back against it and closing his eyes.  The babies and their guardian stayed far on the other side.  The pseudo-human went back to tending for them as well with a deep sigh.

Ken could hear the whisperings of the other little ones, not unlike those from the classroom:

"I hear he delete his own partner if he fails him..."

"... He's a monster!"

"Why does Mother Elecmon let him stay?"

"He's killed more Digimon than even the Czar!"

"... He sucks!  STINKY STINKY!"

Several of the Fresh-level Digimon banded together, led by a particularly brave Koromon, and dared to approach him.

"Get out of our home, you vile... thing!"  It spat a little bubble at Ken, which he batted away lazily.

Ken stood up slowly, glaring at the struggling group of defenders.  He often wondered why they lasted so long, with what pitiful defense they could put up against a full-scale attack.

"I am Ichijouji Ken, the Terror Shinigami.  You've crossed my path."  He smirked, playing his role – the one that had been painted for him by another.  It wasn't a part he wanted to play, but he knew it would help soothe his anger for Osamu – anger that still raged underneath the calm deceit of his exterior.  The little Digimon slinked out of his shadow.  "And you've held my gaze.  For that, you must die."

Ken charged forward and they were then in full retreat.  They ran screaming their heads off for Elecmon and reinforcements.  Ken chased them through the rows of eggs, dodging the little bubbles blown at him from other Digimon.

The little ones finally hid behind their red Guardian, who rumbled, "Stay away from my babies!"

"The next time they look at me, I'll delete them," Ken replied easily.

He walked back to where he had been sitting before and rested up against the tree.  Wormmon found himself a perch high in the branches that swayed gently with the wind; he seemed relaxed, though his eyes still had the same alertness that had existed there when they had first arrived.

The human figure sat down next to Ken with another heavy sigh. "You should know that he's making a move in the western quadrant near the old desert.  I think you know the place.  You killed me there."

Ken's eyes shifted towards the voice, but he did not turn his head.  This creature was very manipulative; he had to be careful.

"Why don't you stop hiding here and go fight him?"  Ken asked, harshly.

"You know that I can't.  I am stuck here babysitting these infants," he growled.  "Stripped of my former power and glory, stuck forever to watch over the young.  I should have chosen nonexistence."  The anger in his voice threatened to bubble over.  Like a deep roaring fire, the words' searing heat Ken could feel on his skin.

"This is all your fault.  Ironic, isn't it?  You turned him and he turned on you.  How delicious."

*****

_I AM NOT HIM!  ... a monster wearing his skin. He laughed.  Millenniumon was his pet._

*****__

Ken landed with a thud; Wormmon followed with a soft crash.  They were home again, back in their room.  Ken could hear shuffling in the next room, but did not know if it was from Osamu or his parents.  Perhaps both.  He didn't have time to care, either.

He stood and pointed his dark device at the screen again; they were gone.

They arrived back in the Digital World, far from the village they had visited moments before.  Black sand blew around their feet; the clouds hung darkly above their heads.  Ken never liked to visit this place.  But he had to; he was forced to.  This was one of the few places that had yet to be touched by the vile hand of his enemy.  Wormmon quivered and climbed to his perch on Ken's shoulder.

"Ichijouji, we meet again."

Ken turned around.

_Days blurred into weeks since that day.  Osamu never apologized.  He acted like it had never happened – neither the beating during soccer nor the beating of Ken.  Ryo started to appear at their door less and less, and any time Ken inquired about his whereabouts, Osamu lost his temper and shouted at him._

_Ken learned not to ask.  He stared dreamily at the door sometimes, and quickly focused on a corner of the room if he fathomed Osamu to possibly be looking in his direction.  He wanted Ryo to come and visit them again, but the time between his visits grew longer and longer.  Ill thoughts crossed Ken's mind: maybe Ryo had forgot about him?_

_No, Ryo-sama wouldn't do that._

_Three knocks came from the front door and breached Ken's mind._  _He called for Osamu to answer the door and the angry boy came stomping out of his room, declaring loudly that Ken shouldn't bother him with such trivial matters.  He was halfway through telling the person on the other side that they weren't interested in whatever they had come to sell when he opened the door._

_"Hi, Osamu."  It was Ryo's voice!_

_As if launched from a catapult, Ken flew off the couch.  He rushed for the door.  The largest, happiest smile that could be made was plastered on his face.  Ken waved frantically for attention._

_"Hi, Ken."_

_"What do you want, Akiyama?" Osamu spat hatefully._

_"Aww… you're not still mad at me for that day I beat you at soccer, are you?"  Ryo sounded puzzled, then apologetic, but his grin was ever so arrogant. "Listen, I'm really sorry.  I'll go easy on you next time."_

_"I don't need your pity!" Osamu stormed away from the door in anger, each footstep like a miniature earthquake until the door to his room was finally slammed shut.  The monster had locked himself away in his room and would not appear again for some time.  Ken was glad._

_"Ryo-sama!"_

_Ken invited Ryo into the apartment and so he stepped in.  He sauntered into the living area and sneered at the couch; he instead settled down in the large, cushioned chair.  Ken closed the door carefully, shutting the locks that he could reach; then his stubbly legs carried him back to his seat and he climbed onto it._

_"Oi, Ryo-sama, you know that's Father's chair.  He won't like it if you sit in it."_

_"Who cares what that old buffoon likes?  It's MY chair now."  Ryo's supercilious tone was loud enough for Osamu to hear in his room.   Not even Ken's older brother had dared to take a seat where Ryo did just then.  Ken shrugged his shoulders and settled into the couch, happy to have his friend once again visit him. "Hey Ken, do you ever think about the Digital World?"_

_"Sure I do!  All the time!  I hope we can see Wormmon and Veemon again real soon.  I miss them."  Ken nodded his head, nostalgic about his former comrades.  He really did wish to see them again and wanted to bring them home.  Osamu wouldn't allow him to have a pet – not even Wormmon, a little voice in the back of his head told him._

_"I think I've found a way to go back," Ryo responded. "Wouldn't it be great to go and visit them?  I bet they've missed you just as much as you've missed them."_

_"It would be awesome!"_

Standing behind him was someone that his eyes barely recognized.  This someone stood alone, though Ken had long since given up hope of ever catching him by himself.  He wore an arrogant smirk and stared right into Ken's heart and soul.  Wormmon hopped to the ground and tried to look intimidating as he stood between the two.

"Ryo-sama..."

Spiked brown hair, rather long and wildly done back, sat on top of a head whose face would have once brightened at the mention of his name.  Two bangs rebelled and fell across his forehead.  A crimson coat, buttoned down to his midriff and ripped to be sleeveless, fell to his knees and blew gently in his wake.  White velvet sleeves ran from his biceps to his hands, tied up around his thumbs.  Black pants with straps of lighter-colored material running along his legs turned into boots at mid-calf.  Small glasses, tinted blue, were just barely large enough to hide his eyes and instead held Ken's reflection. 

"How many times must I tell you?  I am the Digimon Czar.  You always were such a slow learner."

"You will always be Ryo-sama to me!"

"Heh."  His right hand pulled free a braided leather whip, one formerly coiled in a loop and attached to his hip.  He cracked it against the ground once as a threat; then he grinned and pulled it back high over his head.  Its tan length came snapping at Ken.

Pulled from behind Ken's back, a silver blade glinted as it sliced through the whip's thin hide.  This weapon was unique: a skull emblem with swept back eagle wings and three red jewels from the two tips and center made up the decorative cross guard.  The long dagger itself was serrated closer to its hilt, but smoothed out into a lethal double-cutting edge. Ken held it with one hand and waited.

The Czar pulled his whip back; he laughed as the dismembered piece disintegrated and a new section in its place.

His arrogant smirk returned and a quasi-serious tone came imbedded in his voice as he said, "Aw, Ken, I'm hurt.  I thought you would take a whip as a weapon, just like me.  After all, it was I who taught you how to use it.  I thought I was your idol?"

"You used to be my idol, Ryo-sama."  Ken's words were steady and he fought for them to remain that way.  "… But not anymore.  You're not my Ryo-sama, but I will get you back.  You used to save me; now it's my turn to save you.  You're only a monster right now!"  Ken pointed the tip of the blade at the Czar's heart.

"I'm a monster?"  His rage was overwhelming. "Do you know what a monster is?  A monster wears your father's skin; the only clue of his true identity is a smell you can't quite place.  He struts into your home; he smacks around your mother and you.  That's a monster, Ken, THAT IS A MONSTER."

"What do you call what you've done to the Digital World?!"

The dictator responded by lashing out his whip again.  Ken held his blade up defensively and the leather bonds wrapped around it harmlessly until they were cut by the une-ven edges near the cross guard.  They exchanged glares as weapons were lowered at their sides once more.

"It's peaceful now.  No more evils to fight – no more need for heroes that didn't want to be there but were forced to play their parts.  Everything is under my control," the Czar said, acting as though he had accomplished the impossible.  Maybe he had.

"You're wrong!  It used to be a beautiful place, but now it's ruined!" 

"Do you remember that day?  How you failed me, Ken?"

"What does that have to do with anything?!"

_"NO!"_

_Ken felt a hand grab his foot and he fell face-first onto the sand.  Sand got in his mouth: it was bitter, like the taste of defeat.  He climbed to his feet again.  Ryo had fallen to the ground, gripping his head with both hands._

_"Ryo-sama!  Are you okay?"_

_He carefully placed slender digits on Ryo's shoulder, who didn't respond._

_Then Ryo shook his head and slowly stood up.  Sand was plastered onto his forehead, held there by the heavy sweat that had leaked from his skin.  Ken couldn't help but giggle when Ryo turned around; Ryo glared at him like Osamu did, but then his face softened.  And he laughed too._

_"It's done."_

"Millenniumon kept me from getting to you.  He planned this all, Ryo-sama.  He planned for you to become what you are today.  He's the one to blame for all of this!  And once you are you again, I will kill him," Ken said with determination.

The Digimon Czar's laughter rang out again, loud and true.  Ken couldn't help looking bewildered.

"Did you ever stop to think that I might have chosen this path for myself?  Think about it, fool."

_"YOU CAN'T!"  Ken pleaded._

_"Why not?  Why can't I?  I can attach my D-3 to any Digimon I want; and he is a Digimon just like any other!  He'll be reborn, and then he'll be under my control.  Don't worry, Ken, everything will be alright."_

_Ryo patted the top of Ken's head.  They both stood in Primary Village in front of a rather rough-looking egg sitting within a worn basket; Ryo rubbed the egg gently._

_It cracked and light emitted from the interior.  Out flooded a little yellow worm; its red eyes recognized the pair of humans and glared.  It hissed.  The Pagumon tried desperately to escape from his prison, and then from the set of hands that held him.  Ryo pressed his blue device with white trimmings against the little Digimon.  A spark erupted between the two and the Pagumon fell limp._

_"He's mine now."_

"Because I know you, Ryo-sama.  You never wanted any of this to happen.  You wouldn't do this!"

"Idiot.  Thick-headed idiot.  Look at the facts!  Analyze them; dwell in them!  They slap you in the face even now!"

_But nothing was alright._

_Ryo had withdrawn completely into the Digital World.  Ken risked a visit late one night; what he saw he would never forget.  Wormmon laid, battered, near the TV Ken was ejected from.  Explosions roared in his ears and bright lights wrecked havoc on his eyes._

_His eyes finally managed to focus on Ryo: there he stood, untouched.  Frozen like a statue, Ryo watched as his Millenniumon attacked and deleted a seemingly endless supply of Digimon.  Data was so thick in the air that it gave pea soup a run for its money.  Ken couldn't believe this was happening._

_Veemon tried to stand up to his partner, but Ryo waved him away._

_An orange light engulfed Veemon, and then he was gone.  Sealed away, Wormmon told Ken later._

_"RYO-SAMA!"_

"That's not true!  Millenniumon is the cause of all of this and I will save you, Ryo-sama.  I will.  I WILL!  I will use whatever means I have to do that.  I will have you back.  I WILL!"

"Who are you trying to convince?"

_It happened all over the world.  Ryo kept attacking village after village.  He started creating the sky bases and had Digimon following behind him.  His army and Millenniumon destroyed any opposition they came across.  Ryo had heard the rumors of eight Digimon that had the powers to evolve, the Chosen's Digimon, and tried to seek them out, but they were all well hidden._

_He conquered the world in a month.  Ken came one last time to try and reason with him._

_"Ryo-sama, this is wrong.  Stop it!  ... Why... what... why are you looking at me like that?"_

_Ryo laughed and took a step towards him.  His eyes were hidden behind tinted glasses and his ever-represent smirk haunted Ken's dreams that night and every night to come._

_"Ichijouji.  Call me the Digimon Czar."_

Ken took several steps forward, holding his dagger inversely.  The flat part of the blade pressed firmly against the inside of his arm.  "We were once friends, Ryo-sama, but we aren't anymore.  You aren't him, but you wear his face.  In order to save him, I have to defeat you!  And so I will."

"Does the word redundancy mean anything to you?"

_Millenniumon was his pet; but the pet had outlived its usefulness.  He laughed.  The Digimon tried to prove its usefulness.  One spark left the Dark God completely powerless: Ryo withdrew his Digivice's power – and with it, Millenniumon's.  The remaining life force provided only for little Pagumon, who was deleted without a second thought._

_Ken stood on the battlefield; Wormmon had healed and crawled to his side_

_"Are you going to attack me, Ken?  I thought I was your Ryo-sama, your idol."  His voice carried the same sort of mock seriousness that Ken had found hilarious when he was younger; but Ken knew that it wasn't his friend anymore; it was just a monster wearing his skin._

_"YOU ARE NOT HIM!"_

"Ryo-sa –" He was interrupted before he could speak any more.

"Before you start again, Ken, I want you to know that I located one of those so-called Chosen Children's Digimon: an Agumon, I think it was.  He should be under my control soon.  He'll be my new pet until I'm done with him.  Much more useful than that pathetic Wormmon you have.  Your pitiful resistance will be over soon."  Laughter.

_"I AM NOT HIM!"_

_Digimon cowered at the sight of Ken.  He had spent several weeks trying to convince what few free Digimon still remained to join him.  (Some had since they knew what the Czar really looked like, but most steered clear.)  It was difficult to start an organized resistance when your reputation worked against you.  Any human in the Digital World had the stigma and was mistaken for the dictator._

_Ken gathered enough strength and launched his first attack on Ryo's stronghold.  He was determined.  His anger was deep and assimilated with the fury of battle.  Digimon – his or Ryo's; he didn't care – fell to his newly created blade.  Wormmon provided Ken with defense: his Sticky Net immobilized incoming threats; he resolved to protect his Chosen until death._

_His attack failed._

_Ryo won._

_As punishment for Ken's failure, Ryo deleted Wormmon.  He did it right in front of Ken, who held his partner in his arms as he fragmented into data._

_The newest, most dreaded nickname for Ken – "Terror Shinigami" – spread throughout the Digital World, carried by Ryo's messengers.  What little remained of Ken's former army refused to ever have anything to do with him again._

_He fought lonely battles with only Wormmon as his ally._

"Why are you going to get them involved?!" Ken demanded.

"They have always been involved from the very beginning.  They – including that Agumon – are the reason why I was pulled here in the first place!  If it weren't for them, I would have never known of the Digital World or Digimon!  If you want someone to blame, blame him."

*** * * * * ***

He ran hard.  Dinosaur-like feet pounded the wet ground.  Several dozen dark Digimon followed him; they launched random attacks whenever they thought they could hit him.  Most attacks missed, but every now and then a few came too close for comfort.  Even more rare were the direct hits that caused him to stumble.

If only Taichi were here, he could evolve!  He would be able to beat them all easily as WarGreymon!

He ducked under a log.  They were closing in, hunting him like packs of wolves.  It wouldn't be much longer before they could slap a collar around his neck and drag him off to see the Digimon Czar. 

He had to reach the spot Mille had spoken about.  The Primary Village guardian sent him on a quest, telling him that he could see Taichi if he went there.  So he came up out of hiding and now ran for it.  He was almost there.  He could almost smell that big-haired partner of his.

There!  The television set.  It had Taichi's picture on it.

Agumon dove for it.

*** * * * * ***

Taichi sat at his computer, writing out an e-mail.

"S... o... r--" he read his letters out loud as he typed… until Agumon fell into his lap.

He yelled in surprise and the chair tipped over backwards.  His Digimon partner rolled away over the ground and Taichi rushed to his side as soon as he realized who it was.  "Agumon!  What's the big idea, surprising me like that?!"  He then noticed the injuries:  "Agumon?"

"I'm... alright, Taichi."

But Agumon didn't sound okay and hardly looked it; he didn't have the strength to sit up and remained as he had fallen.  Taichi picked him up and gently cradled him in his arms.

"There's... he's evil," Agumon said.  "He's taken over the Digital World; he's destroyed it.  I... was finally able to come here and tell you, Taichi!  We have to go back."

Taichi rocked him, trying to soothe the panicked digital creature.  "Who is it?  The Dark Masters?  Have they come back?"  Agumon managed to shake his head, though the movement was barely detectable.  "Devimon?  Apoclymon?  Don't tell me that it's Etemon!"

Again, Agumon said no.

"Then what the hell is it?"  Taichi's impatience started to ebb into anger.  He quickly willed it away once he realized that it would not do him any good to speak to Agumon like that.

The Digimon grimaced from being yelled at, but he took a deep breath.

"The enemy... is a kid.  Like you – but not like you.  He's evil.  Taichi... it's Ryo," Agumon finally spit out.  

Taichi blinked, confused.  This name was familiar to him but he did not know it well.  He shook his head, stood, and gently placed Agumon on his bed where he pulled up the blankets.

"Rest, little buddy.  I'll take care of everything."

He went into the living room.  Telephone in hand, he dialed a certain number he did know, and pressed the receiver to his ear tightly as he waited for the rings to be replaced by a human voice.

Click.  Call answered.

"Hey, Yamato?  We've got a problem."

*** * * * * ***

*** * * * * ***

EDITED BY:

M.C. Zarella.


	2. Two

****

Author's Note and Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure 02, or any of the characters depicted. However, the storyline is completely mine and I do not want to see it replicated without my expressed permission. The characters, as they exist within my storyline, are also mine and I do not want to see them replicated permission as well.

****

Review Response: This is where I respond to the reviews left by the readers.

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Lavos, the Time Apocalypse: Remember, Millenniumon is Ryo's partner! Good fic, otherwise. That is correct in canon. However, since this story is completely AU, it is not. Because Ryo was seeded and became the Digimon Czar, he never went on his adventure in Brave Tamers, and thus, never gained Millenniumon/Cyberdramon/Monodramon as his partner.

__

TheDuneDain87:This is one of the most enjoyable fic I've read on FanFiction.net. As I read it, I could clearly see what's happening, and I can feel what the character is thinking. However, I think there's one flaw like the 02 TV show itself: the characters are kinda 2 dimensional. Other than that, it's a glorious story! See, this is the kind of review I like to receive. Constructive, balanced ones. I don't understand how the characters can be 2-D, but yet you can feel and see what the character is thinking. Maybe you could be clearer?

__

M.C. Zarrella: If you don't finish the second chapter soon, I will go insane.  
I adore the characterization. I mean, the chemistry you have going is phenomenal. I especially like Ken and Czar's showdown interwoven with all of the memories. I don't even have words for Ken and Osamu's interaction -- the latter is just a cold-hearted bastard, as he should be. Thank you. I'm most impressed by how you can create an AU that's interesting. Usually these are created to suit the author's twisted whims of combining Digimon's cast with things swiped from other genres; but that is hardly the case here. You don't need gimmicks to make this story interesting. Kudos on that.  
I cannot wait to see the other cast memories factored in. You so do not count. Quiet.

****

* * * * * *

* * * * * *

light IN dark

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* * * * * *

Chapter Two

****

* * * * * *

"LATE! I'm late, I'm late!" The cry resounded off the buildings as he ran. Feet pounded hard against the pavement as he inched ever closer to his destination. Square goggles infested brown spiked hair; from there a head and neck descended down from that mess. Clothes of pale blue were worn, one horizontal white stripe running across his chest; brown shorts clung to those running legs like a desperate commuter trying to grab a train.

Daisuke rounded a street corner and his school came into sight. No one was standing around in front of the gates: that was a bad sign. The bullies and "badasses" of the school always loitered just outside the safety of the school walls. If even they were gone, then he truly was late. Daisuke's shoes squealed in protest as he changed direction suddenly and darted into the schoolyard.

Cement ground gave way to wood as he entered into the facility. He was almost there. The fact that he was nearly at the finish line gave him renewed strength and he seemed to move faster than he did before. The halls were almost completely devoid of any sort of life, save for a few groups of students that still hung out. The final bell hadn't rung yet, he concluded.

He was right. He threw open the door to his class just as the death toll rung. Daisuke mentally cursed his luck and took a step into the room. The teacher was nowhere in sight: maybe he could get away with being tardy. He took a few glances around; his classmates were all busy with one another. Hikari was sitting in her desk talking to another guy Daisuke didn't recognize – wait, what?!

The boy had blonde hair that stuck out from underneath the gray bowl hat sitting on his head. The rest of his clothes were a combination of yellow and green that reminded Daisuke of bananas. He and Hikari seemed to be getting along well – a little too well for Daisuke's tastes. One eyebrow twitched as her unique laughter responded to something he had said.

He opened his mouth to say something, to shout something. A large hand fell on his shoulder and clasped it tightly. Daisuke gulped. He knew what was coming; he turned around to face his teacher. His mind started to race, trying to come up with something to explain why he wasn't seated like everyone else.

"Sensei... I'm not late... I'm just... uh.."

"Late," the deep voice answered. "Detention, Daisuke. You'll be cleaning the computer room today after school."

The class giggled. Daisuke angrily stomped to his seat and sat down. He had tried so hard to get there on time and had (technically) made it if you looked at it from his angle. The blonde boy and Hikari were whispering something to each other with concerned looks on their faces. Hikari was beside Daisuke and the stranger sat on the other side of her.

Daisuke sent angry looks over Hikari's shoulder at her new friend. Death glares only caught the other boy's attention once or twice and resulted in an uncomfortable fidget. Hikari sighed and their conversation wound down. "Do you just want to –"

Daisuke leaned out across his desk and pointed a single finger at the one with the bowl hat.

"I'm onto you!" he said, pinning him with the crime. "I'm onto you, ol' twitchy eyes!"

"What...?" the boy said, confused by this accusation.

"Oi, Daisuke, this is Takaishi Takeru," Hikari said and gestured to him. "Takeru, this is Motomiya Daisuke." They exchanged glances. "Takeru and I have been friends for a long time. He's finally moved back to Odaiba and at just the right time too."

"Old friends, huh?" Daisuke asked suspiciously. "And what do you mean by, 'at just the right time?'" Then he spoke to Takeru: "Listen, buddy, if you think for once second you're gonna just come waltzing in here and –"

Daisuke's speech was interrupted when a chalkboard eraser collided with his forehead; it left a white streak on his face, very reminiscent of a skunk with how the white differed from his darker complexion. The teacher yelled at him to be quiet and to give the projectile back; Daisuke launched it at his head. When the teacher caught it easily, Daisuke sat back in his chair, disappointed.

Time seemed to drag on; the clock ticked slower and slower by the second. Takeru and Hikari were passing notes back and forth to each other. Daisuke strained his neck, trying to catch a glimpse at what they were talking about. His fists were curled, though hidden under his desk. He couldn't believe the nerve of that guy.

Finally the bell signaled freedom. The kids packed up their personal belongings and headed for the door. Takeru gently stepped aside and let Hikari pass through the doorway before he did; Hikari giggled at this display of chivalry. Daisuke, still trying to put his things away, rushed for the door. He was going to show Hikari he could be chivalrous too.

"Hey Hikari! Lemme walk y –"

Daisuke's forward movement ceased when a hand slammed down onto his shoulder. The teacher reminded Daisuke of his detention in the computer room and he dropped his shoulders in defeat. Hikari waved, and Takeru smiled. They disappeared out into the hallway, melting into the crowd like rain into a river.

Grumpily muttering curses, Daisuke headed for the computer room. He lazily tugged along both a mop and a bucket. He slid open the door and kicked the bucket inside, hard, so that it rebounded off the wall and spilt soapy water onto the floor.

"Shit!"

He moved quickly, hoping to soak up some of the water with the mop.

His feet slid out from underneath him. He pin wheeled his arms wildly, trying to keep his balance; but he landed on his back with a loud thud; cold liquid seeped into his clothes.

"Dammit! First I'm late, then that guy makes moves on Hikari, now I got soap all over me! This just isn't my day." He stood up. "Mopping sucks. I gotta find something else to do until I can get out of here and find out what's with that new kid and Hikari."

Daisuke looked at the soapy floor. He grinned. He slowly started backing away, toward the door, and then he ran full throttle towards the puddle. He stopped, but his forward momentum slid him across the room.

"Now this is what I'm talking about!"

****

* * * * * *

Thunder clashed against the digital sky. Dark rain clouds served as the backdrop. Ryo stood on a balcony, staring out at the dark sands beneath his floating fortress. Ken had returned to the Real World long ago. He'd let him. The signal fires had since been put out and so the Czar planned his next move. Only few pockets of resistance still fought him – those mainly around Primary Village. If only he could take it as his own.

"So, we meet again, Digimon Czar," a voice called from behind him.

Ryo felt a sudden surge of anger. No one should have addressed him while his back was turned – especially if you were the person that spoke to him just then. He faced the intruder; his eyes narrowed into a deadly glare; he kept his hands hidden behind him.

"Ah, if it isn't the worthless former employee of mine? I see you've found a new shell to hide in." Ryo smirked as the tall humanoid.

"Not so worthless anymore, child," he replied, twitching. Most of his body was hidden underneath a light brown cloak, but his face remained visible. The skin was devoid of any healthy color, making the digital code written on his forehead stand out, and long, dark hair disappeared around his shoulders.

Ryo pulled his whip out and snapped it against the humanoid's knee; he collapsed under his own weight, but managed to stay kneeling.

Ryo screamed, "Do not call me that! I am not a child anymore! If you must address me, then you will address me as Master or Digimon Czar!"

"You will always be an insolent little child that came to destroy my plans when I had the other Chosen Children beaten," the humanoid growled a response. He slowly rose to his feet again, standing straight and tall. Ryo gritted his teeth together at this insubordination. He cracked the whip between his former slave's feet.

"So, Millenniumon, what brings you to my humble abode, again? Come to beg for forgiveness for outliving your usefulness to me?" Ryo laughed. "Don't waste your time. I hear they made you Mother at Primary Village. Are you a good mommy, Millenniumon? Do you tuck them into bed at night and whisper them bed time stories? Do you plot their deaths as they sleep? I hear they call you Mille now. How girlish."

"I've come to take from you what you've taken from me." Millenniumon struggled to keep his well-known temper under control. He couldn't fight Ryo – not in this form and not at this time. But he'd have his chance. Oh, he was sure he would have his chance. This was only the first move on the chess board.

"And what's that, Mille? Your power, pride, prestige, or dignity? Shall I go on? I can't keep up with all the things I've taken from you over the years. The list grows too long." Ryo laughed again, cracking the whip randomly. Millenniumon watched the weapon before he slowly shook his head.

"What's yours isn't yours anymore."

Millenniumon raised his arm. His hand slid out from beneath its sleeve; long, clawed fingers pointed at Ryo the Czar's waist. A sphere of blue surrounded something attached to his belt; Ryo gasped as his D-3 flew from its place to Millenniumon's side. Ryo yelled for it to return, calling for it like one did for a lost dog, but Millenniumon's hand closed around it.

"Now it belongs to someone else!" Milenniumon said. He threw the device off of the balcony; it sped out of sight, engulfed in a navy aura.

Ryo screamed and snapped his whip against Millenniumon's body. The Digimon fell to the ground and submitted to the punishment. Ryo didn't let up: he hit him again and again. Millenniumon disappeared at last and the ground instead received the treatment. Ryo kept up the attacks on the metal floor until it was dented.

His arm was exhausted.

He fell to his knees.

****

* * * * * *

"Taichi and Yamato should be here soon too, Hikari," Takeru said outside.

Daisuke's ears twitched with the alertness of a fox. Hikari said something in reply, but he couldn't make it out. Were they heading this way? He couldn't let her see him mopping the floor like some kind of idiot! He glanced around quickly and spotted the closet in the far corner. He ran for it, careful to avoid his slip-and-slide fun now. He barely managed to get inside when Hikari and Takeru slid open the door.

"Oi, looks like Daisuke was in here cleaning," Hikari said, spotting the mop, bucket, and large spill.

"He's not very good at it, huh. I think he missed a spot – the rest of the room," Takeru laughed, and Hikari shared in it.

Daisuke fumed inside the closet; slits of light allowed him to see out into the room. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides; his knuckles were so white, he could have sworn they were glowing.

"Do you really think it's like Agumon says?" Hikari asked in a hushed voice. Daisuke pressed his ear against one of the slits and strained to listen.

"I don't know... maybe. But how could another kid get into the Digital World without a digivice? Maybe it's Vamdemon in disguise." Takeru shrugged. He pulled out one of the chairs in front of a computer monitor and sat in it; Hikari copied this decision a second later.

"No, that can't be it," she decided.

"Yeah, you're right. That's a stupid idea anyway: thinking of Vamdemon coming back when we know we deleted him enough times during our adventures together." Takeru grinned. "Do you remember the old days, Hikari?"

"How could I forget? They were always so exciting, always something new going on. But one thing never changed, Takeru," she said, wearing a smile Daisuke had never seen before.

"What's that?"

"You were always there to protect me."

What is this talk?! Daisuke's mind raced, confused on which lane its desired destination lied on. That was all in the past! What they were talking about didn't matter. Takeru was overstepping his boundaries by leaps and bounds. He should have gotten the hint during class to back off, and now Daisuke had had enough of it.

Daisuke reached for the handle to free himself from his hiding place, but the computer room's door slid open again, and two more people came in. One was another blonde, but this one Daisuke knew from all of his sister's posters on her wall: those blue eyes belonged to Ishida Yamato the rock star. The other had hair that threatened to eat the world: Yagami Taichi, one of his idols! He even wore a pair of goggles almost like the ones Taichi always had on.

He waited, listening for more of this conversation on instinct. "Alright. Takeru, you have excellent timing. I bet Yamato and Hikari told you what as going on." Takeru nodded to Taichi. "Agumon is still sleeping at home. If there's a kid in the Digital World, then we should be able to get there too and help put a stop to him."

"Let's just hope this works better than most of your other plans, Taichi," Yamato said with a grin. Taichi echoed him with a smirk of his own. Takeru and Hikari laughed a little. "Sorry you had to come back at such a bad time, Takeru."

"I'm just glad to be home and to be able to help, onii-san. It's great to see the old gang back together again."

"Well, we're missing some people. We're all I was able to get together in such a short period of time."

Taichi nodded and then pulled this weird-looking device from his pocket. It looked like a square with the corners cut off, and had a large black button sticking out of the side. Daisuke almost laughed at it.

"Digivices out. Let's go!" The others followed him, retrieving their own.

Taichi shoved his digivice toward the computer screen, but nothing happened. Taichi blinked and tried again; he was rewarded with the same result. Yamato pushed him aside and gave it a try. Nothing. Takeru. Nothing. Hikari. Suddenly a blue light shot from out of the screen. Taichi fell onto his rear in surprise while Yamato ducked. Takeru and Hikari flipped over in their chairs.

The light show diminished and a blue sphere sat hovering by the closet doors. It was almost as if it were waiting for something. Taichi climbed back to his feet quickly, cursed, and picked up the mop; he carefully tried to poke at the floating orb, but he always seemed to just barely miss it. He threw down the mop in frustration.

"What the hell is that thing?"

"A blue ball," Yamato replied.

"Thanks a lot! I could have told you that one!" Taichi yelled.

"Anytime."

"What's it doing?" Takeru asked, puzzled.

"Is it waiting for something?" Hikari stared at it. "I wish we had Koushirou here to tell us what it is. Or Gennai to give us some hint."

Daisuke blinked, blinded by the navy light that blocked out his view of the room. He pushed open the door slightly to make a wider gap and see what was going on again, but the orb zigzagged around the edge of the door and pelted Daisuke in the chest. He fell hard back against the interior wall and accidentally kicked the door open all the way.

"Ow, damn thing!" His hands wrapped around the object now resting on his chest.

"Daisuke? What were you doing in there?" Hikari asked almost accusatorily.

The aura finally died down from around the object. Daisuke made his way to his feet. He examined it to find that it was some sort of oval-shaped machine, blue with white trimmings, and had buttons and hand grips.

"Hey, cool! Does this thing get TV or play video games?" Daisuke pressed at the buttons randomly, trying to find the right combination to bring about the desired effects. Yamato scoffed, and Taichi shook his head. Takeru and Hikari didn't know what to make of the situation. Daisuke looked up from the device. "What's everyone staring at me like that for?"

"How much did you hear?" the big-haired one asked.

"You know this kid, Taichi?" Yamato glanced in his direction. Taichi nodded. "He looks like a miniature you."

"Something about Agumon, kid in Digital World, Takeru is a jerk... uh... yeah, I think that covers it." He nodded. Takeru and Hikari looked at each other, searching in one another's eyes to see if one of them knew what he was talking about on that last statement.

"Daisuke, lemme see that." Taichi caught the tossed blue device after Daisuke arrived to stand with the group. Taichi compared it to his. "Looks like he's got a digivice now."

"Doesn't that make him a Chosen Child?" Takeru asked.

"Yeah," Taichi agreed.

"Great. Two goggle boys." Yamato rolled his eyes.

Taichi shrugged and handed the device back to Daisuke, who went back to playing with the buttons. He was damned determined to find the way to bring up pinball or some other sort of entertainment. What good was it if it couldn't even play video games? The nerve of sending him something so useless!

"Daisuke, point your digivice at the computer screen." Taichi indicated to the machine beside them.

"What, like this?"

Daisuke aimed the front of his new toy at the screen; almost immediately white light engulfed them. They all landed in a dog pile with Daisuke at the bottom, but everyone grunted and groaned for each other to get off.

"Get the hell off!"

"Sorry!"

"Your knee is in my eye!"

"Calm down."

"Daisuke, stop squirming!"  
"I can't help it if I'm being crushed by fat people!"

"Who are you calling fat?!"

It took them several seconds to disentangle themselves. Daisuke climbed to his feet, now free of the heavy weight that had held him down.

Taichi's knuckles hit the top of his head. "Don't call me fat!"

Daisuke rubbed at the growing knot in his hair and mouthed something back at Taichi.

The smell of fire assaulted their noses, and then Takeru, Hikari, Taichi, and Yamato were standing still, open-mouthed. Their eyes frantically searched for something familiar. Daisuke's just wandered from black rock to black rock. Was this the Digital World? Scorched earth stood as testament to where a lush forest once stood; but now only a few stumps remained, dotting here and there.

"Where are we?"

"The Digital World, Daisuke… or what's left of it."

"We're near Primary Village. We had better find some answers there."

"How can you tell?" Taichi asked.

Yamato didn't respond and just pointed at the ground. Taichi's eyes followed his finger; they widened in recognition: the patterns running beneath his feet spoke to him about better times, back when he was a little kid and visiting this place for the first time.

They walked in a morbid silence, following the lines towards the single standing tree. They barely knew the world they now lived in. Hadn't it once been their home? Takeru frowned, and it only deepened as they passed by the smashed baskets. This is where Patamon and Elecmon had their battle. Those cradles once held new-born baby Digimon. His mind tried desperately to comprehend what kind of monster would do this.

"Welcome, Chosen Children." A voice greeted them when they arrived at the tree. A figure cloaked in brown was leaning against the tree with arms crossed over his chest; he looked quite smug and proud of himself. Daisuke waved his hand, while the other four watched the stranger closely. "I've been expecting you."

"Who are you?" Taichi demanded, taking a step forward. "Are you the one responsible for all of this!?"

"My name is Millenniumon, and as much as I'd like to take credit, I am not the cause of this destruction. But I've done my fair share, trust me." He wore a menacing smirk after that statement. "I'm the one that sent your Agumon to you. And," he said and he looked at Daisuke, "I sent that device you hold in your hand to you."

"What, this?" Daisuke held up his digivice. Millenniumon nodded. "... Can I call you Mille?" Daisuke added almost as an afterthought.

"No." Millenniumon answered immediately, almost angrily.

"Alright, Mille it is, then!" Daisuke grinned.

"If you're not the one who did all this, then who did?" Takeru asked; his voice reeked of suspicion. He did not trust the guy as far as he could have thrown him. There was just something about him that picked up on his evil radar.

"I thought Agumon would have answered that? Ah, well, don't send a minion to do your own work. I should have learned that lesson by now." Taichi started to shout something, but Mille's voice cut him off. "The Digital World as you know it has ceased to exist. A new evil named the Digimon Czar has taken over. This is the only free sector left, except for maybe one or two others."

Daisuke took several steps to the side, trying to see around Mille and the tree. He blinked at the sight of the little ball-like creatures: they stood in a line, listening to a red rabbit speak. He couldn't make out the words because Elecmon was trying to keep their voices down. He approached them while the others were distracted by Millenniumon's speech.

"Red-on-white, you're alright. White-on-red, you're dead," the chorus of high-pitched squeaks chorused, solving the mystery of what the lesson was. The little poem didn't make any sense to Daisuke; he scratched at the top of his head, confused, but he was finally close enough to hear Elecmon when he started speaking again.

"And what's the difference between the Digimon Czar and Terror Shinigami?"

"The Digimon Czar will enslave you, and the Terror Shinigami will eat you." They sounded bored, as though they had been drilled about this a hundred times. They wanted to go play, not listen to preaches about constant vigilance. A few bounced impatiently. The babies were tired.

Elecmon nodded his approval and dismissed his children to go play. But he watched them carefully, calling out whenever one strayed too far from the pack since there was safety in numbers. He wanted his children to have every bit of a carefree life as was possible in their dark, dim world. Daisuke sneaked back to the other four.

Large bonfires came to life off in the distance. Hikari was half-way through asking Mille a question when they caught her attention. She couldn't keep her eyes off one in particular. It was quite a distance off, but it flickered with a different color than the others: it had a slight purple hue to it. Maybe it was her imagination? That aura passed almost immediately.

"What are those?" she asked.

Another surrounding fire took on the incongruent discoloration. It was far closer than the first, but then the special color disappeared; as soon as it did, the next closest changed. Taichi stood protectively in front and between Hikari and Daisuke; Yamato guarded Takeru. They faced the on-coming threat and Millenniumon became a sullen figure behind them.

"Those? They're the signal fires set up to tell the Digimon Czar if a certain someone is in the Digital World or not. The purple coloring indicates which fire he is closest to. That way the Czar can locate his adversary very quickly," Millenniumon explained and sighed, lovesick. "My beloved is so ingenious."  
Taichi and Yamato, as if on an unseen cue, both let one eyebrow rise. Takeru looked over his shoulder at Millenniumon, and then faced forward again. Hikari didn't seem to have even noticed. The traveler finally came into view: a boy with long blue hair pulled back into a ponytail; it swayed gently in the wind. His clothes bore the white-on-red combination.

"Who the fuck are they?" He stopped walking, several feet away from the other Chosen, and pointed a finger at them like a child accusing someone of eating their favorite ice cream.

Daisuke thought he was just pointing at him, but the boy's eyes wandered to each person in front of him – it was as though he were examining everyone.

"They're the Chosen Children, Ken. They're here to help," Mille said.

Ken stared at Yamato and Taichi, and then his gaze drifted over to Takeru and Hikari, but soon it was back to the older two boys and he shook his head. He started walking again, angling to get around them and to where Mille was standing.

"Obsolete," he murmured.

"Who are you calling obsolete?!" Taichi raged, his fists shaking at his sides. He couldn't help himself, couldn't stop himself. He took a step forward and brought his closed hand up to swing a punch, but Yamato grabbed the arm and pulled it down. He said nothing, just shook his head at Taichi.

"You two live too much in each other's world to focus on anyone else." Ken barely glanced at Takeru and Hikari. A faint blush fell across Hikari's face, and Takeru stared at Ken. How could this new boy act like he had known them for years? They had only just met! What right did he have to critique them? "And I don't mean that in a good way, Gilligan."

"Takeru is in Hikari's world? ... Get out of her world, Takeru!" Daisuke yelled.

"Why are THEY here?" Ken demanded to know when he reached Millenniumon. The Guardian growled at being spoken down to like that: bad memories. "They're a waste of my time and energy. You can't possibly expect them to be able to help me. They'll just slow me down! Send them back to the rock they crawled out from under."

"HEY!" Yamato was forced to restrain Taichi again.

"Can't you put a leash on your boyfriend over there?!" Ken snapped, though without sparing them a glance.

This time Taichi was forced to restrain Yamato.

Daisuke found this all to be quite amusing; he barely managed to keep himself from laughing.

Ken shook his head, incensed with the situation since Mille didn't give him a response timely enough. He started back in the direction he had come from. Takeru and Hikari talked with their respected siblings.

Daisuke raced to catch up with Ken before he got too far away; Taichi shouted something at him, but he didn't catch it.

"Oi!"

Ken turned just in time to see the oncoming Daisuke, whose hand clasped over his shoulder when he caught up. A little twitch of Ken's face went unnoticed by the grinning child. Wormmon watched, taking bets with imaginary figures in his head on how long it would be before Ken cut off that said appendage.

"What do you want?" Ken demanded.

"I'm Motomiya Daisuke." Daisuke let his hand fall back to his side. Wormmon snapped two claws irately: he lost the bet to himself. "What's your name?"

"Terror Shinigami," Ken answered and then walked away.

"Ken, huh?" Daisuke grinned and followed him. "And hey, don't worry about that Mille guy. I know what it's like dealing with jerks like him. You know that kid with a bowl on his head? He's making a move on my territory, so I gotta straighten him out right quick."

Ken said nothing.

"We're here to help you, ya know." They were getting quite far from the other Chosen by this time: Primary Village was just a distant image behind them. Daisuke didn't notice. He was only focused on the other person there. "I don't know how, but I know that I'm going to be able to help you if you'd let me."

"You're too much like him." Ken stared at Daisuke, who scratched the top of his head while decoding the too-vague analysis. "And you think you can help me? Well, come walk with me, Motomiya."

They kept moving. Ken took a sharp right turn at a tall set of rocks guarding an entrance that led underground. Torches lit on fire provided the light down a dark tunnel. It ended abruptly, and there sat an flame-emblazoned egg on a mantel with a large scythe-like blade sticking out of its top. Lit candles flickered all around it.

"See that? The monster you want to fight put his own best friend underneath it and left him there for all eternity. This isn't a game you're going to be playing, Daisuke." Ken folded his arms over his chest. Wormmon hopped down and watched from ground-level. "If you can lift that, then I guess you can help me."

"What? This thing?"

Daisuke reached out and lifted the object up quite easily. Both Wormmon and Ken couldn't hide the look of shock on their faces. A blue light flooded out of the hole that the egg covered; the candles blew out, and the candlesticks tumbled from the altar when an azure Digimon appeared on top of it.

"I'M FREE! FREE AT LAST!"

Yellow and red streaks flew from between the lizard's feet; Ken watched them fly out of the cavern, but Daisuke's eyes were preoccupied with the joyful reunion of Veemon and Wormmon. They embraced one another and danced around happily, chanting songs that Daisuke had never heard before.

Ken screamed. The two Digimon's celebrations were interrupted when Ken roughly grabbed Veemon and attempted to shove him back down the hole the egg had covered. This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to be this way! Daisuke was supposed to fail and then go away, leaving Ken to his lonely war. He wanted to see Daisuke's destroyed face – a face of defeat that Ryo had never worn – so everything would be okay again.

"Ken, what are you doing?!" Wormmon cried, and Veemon yelled something in protest.

Daisuke grabbed Ken's shoulders and pulled him away; Ken reluctantly let Veemon go and glared at the other human for daring to touch him for the second time. In the struggle, Daisuke's digivice fell out of his pocket. Veemon stared at it once it hit the ground.

"So... you're my partner, now?" Veemon's gaze turned to Daisuke.

"Yeah, unfortunately," Ken grumbled.

"But what about Ryo?"

"He's still the enemy, Veemon. You know that."

"Yeah... I know." He sounded defeated, but then his voice brightened, although it was a fake cheerfulness. "I'm Veemon! I'm one lucky bug." Wormmon shook his head. "Nice to meet ya!"

Veemon extended a hand and Daisuke shook it.

"I'm Daisuke." He kneeled to be eye-level with Veemon. "I don't know who this Ryo is, but I'll do my best to fill his shoes, Veemon. You've been stuck under there a long time, haven't you?" Veemon nodded, surprised by that insight. "I promise that you'll never be stuck there again."

Again, Veemon nodded solemnly.

Ken watched in silence. He watched the con artist work that magic, weave that wool over Veemon's eyes. But he wouldn't be fooled at least, he silently promised himself. The trickster wouldn't get the better of him. When the fraud was gone, he would explain to Veemon that it was all a sham.

Daisuke stood up again and turned to Ken. "... So what the hell did he mean about being partners?"

"You're partners. You and he are connected now, through that." Ken pointed at the digivice lying on the ground. Daisuke picked it up and looked it over again. He seemed disappointed somehow, as if he were expecting so much more. "You help him, and he helps you. And – what – why are you looking at it like that?"

"So it really doesn't play video games?"

****

* * * * * *

"Come on! We've got to make it to that television!" Taichi's voice broke the tense air. He was pulling Hikari along by her hand and the other two ran alongside him.

Buzzing wings behind them grew louder and louder: those golden dragonflies were closing on them. Taichi glanced back at the Yamnamon and then ran harder.

"What about Daisuke?!" Hikari asked, stumbling while trying to keep up with her brother. Her breath was heavy from the running – she knew she shouldn't have taken it so easy in P.E. class. Her foot snagged a rock and she tumbled; she let go of Taichi's hand and fell on her face.

"Hikari!" Takeru kicked up a storm of dust as he tried to make the sudden turn back towards her.

The Yamnamon were getting closer. Everyone could feel the wind from those gyrating wings. Taichi and Yamato turned around just in time to see Takeru never make it to her; one of the Yanmamon dive-bombed halfway there and head-butted him away.

"Takeru!" Yamato screamed.

The Yamnamon circled like vultures preparing to descend on their victims. They screeched. Yamato and Taichi stood over their siblings, each ready to fight off what they could even though they knew it would be in vain; but they couldn't just stand by and let it happen. They made a silent promise to one another to go down in flames.

"This is it, Yamato." Taichi grinned.

"Yeah, at least you're going down with me."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

And then they came:

"FIRE ROCKET!"

Flames engulfed several of the descending Digimon, whose forms relented and broke up into fragments. More fireballs caught the reserves; their ranks broke, and they dispersed. Several came around for a second attack: a tall creature dressed in armor decorated with fire emblems stood as their new target.

"Hey guys! Miss me?" Daisuke ran towards them, grinning.

"DAISUKE! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!" Taichi yelled at the top of his lungs.

The insects attacked Flamedramon. He dealt with them easily, dodging a lightning attack here and sending a fireball there. His body erupted into flame and he launched himself into the air, disintegrating some of the Yamnamon as he passed. Yamato, Taichi, and Takeru watched in awe. However, they weren't they the only ones; another watched, hidden in the shadows.

Hikari screamed. One of the attackers had snatched her with its powerful claws and was attempting to haul her off. Taichi grabbed her shoe and pulled against the Digimon – Hikari became the rope in a game of tug-of-war. Her screams reached Daisuke's ears and were amplified as if by a million microphones.

"Hikari! Let go of her!" Daisuke dove.

He tackled the Yamnamon and it tore a piece off of Hikari's shirt, but she was safe. He kept the snapping, growling insect pinned beneath his body. A claw grabbed Daisuke's goggles and pulled; they broke apart, shattering like fragile china. Daisuke watched them fall into the Digimon's mouth.

"My goggles! ... You BASTARD!" Daisuke poked the insect's large eyes and it screamed in pain.

It finally kicked Daisuke off, but didn't have time to celebrate its accomplishment: a fireball engulfed it almost as soon as Daisuke rolled away. He lied on his back, looking up at the digital sky.

The Yamnamon, sourly beaten, ran for it; and Flamedramon took out what he could before they were all gone. After the last fled, his body glowed orange as he was reduced to the size of a small child. He bounced happily, satisfied with the victory.

Hikari climbed to her feet; the little piece of shirt missing revealed more shoulder than the already sleeveless garment had. "Daisuke… that was really brave of you."  
"Really?" Daisuke beamed. Then he turned on the now-standing Takeru. "HA! HAHAHA! See, Takeru? I beat you! I saved her from your freaky world!"

"Uh… Daisuke...?" Hikari sighed.

"Come on. Let's get out of here before we get attacked again." Taichi eyed Veemon and then started walking towards the television set again.

Yamato followed; Takeru and Hikari fell in behind him. Veemon and Daisuke brought up the rear; they hummed a triumph tune known only to them – perhaps even their own theme song.

"Guess this means it wasn't our time, Yamato." Taichi grinned again, looking back at him.

"One more day for your hair to try and conquer the world," Yamato replied.

Takeru walked along next to Hikari; they were chatting together quietly. Daisuke was too thrilled at his victory to care at that moment, though he would undoubtedly want to know what they were talking about later.

They stopped in front of the television set that had deposited them in the Digital World. Daisuke pulled his digivice out of his pocket, preparing to send them back to the Real World. He raised his arm and pointed the device at the little monitor; but Taichi's hand fell on Daisuke's wrist, and gently pushed the arm towards the ground.

"Daisuke, wait."

"Huh?" Daisuke asked, puzzled.

"You're a Chosen Child now. Like us. And if it weren't for you, we would have bitten the dust back there." Taichi nodded in agreement to his own statement. "So I think... a little celebration is in order." The other Chosen looked at him, perturbed. "... Alright, we'll just get out of here. But I want to give you this."

Taichi pulled the round goggles off the top of his head. With great pride and care, he handed them to Daisuke. "Take 'em. You deserve them."

Yamato nodded his approval. Takeru just stared, and Hikari clapped once. Daisuke's nervous hands placed the goggles atop his head. He blinked, trying to look up at the replacements.

"Cute," Hikari declared. Takeru glanced at her.

"Tell me, Daisuke," Yamato said. "What did you and that other guy talk about? Who is he? What happened here? How did you get Veemon?"

Daisuke grumbled at having to take his attention away from his new headwear. "He's Ken. Ryo blew up the world. Veemon got stuck under an egg."

"Where is the rest of our Digimon? How come we haven't seen them yet?" Taichi added in on the interrogation.

"Some of them are hidden by Mille and some of them are out fighting Ryo. He's trying to round them all up," Daisuke said. "But they won't do us any good anyway. Ken explained it to me. You guys can't fight 'cause the Czar blocked _evomalution_. That's what those big floaty thingies are doing." He pointed upwards toward one of the sky bases.

"Then how did Veemon evolve?" Takeru asked, though his tone indicated it was more of a statement than a question.

"We used the egg."

"So... we are obsolete, like he said." Yamato shook his head.

"This is total crap! We couldn't get a straight answer out of that Mille guy, and here Daisuke is spitting out all this information we SHOULD have been told in the first place!" Taichi's fist pounded the opposing hand. "I say we march right back there and give him a piece of mind!"

"That wouldn't be very much," Yamato responded to Taichi's rant; and the Yagami seemed to calm slightly.

"Oniichan," Hikari finally spoke. "We need to get home… it's dinner time."

"Oh? ... What are we having?"

"Meatloaf."

Taichi was silent for a moment, as though he were weighing his choices on a galactic scale. "Back to Primary Village, then!"

"Oniichaaan."

"Yeah, yeah. We're going, Hikari. Daisuke, if you would be so kind..."

"Huh?" Daisuke blinked.

"... To send us home."

"Oh." Daisuke lifted his arm again and pointed his digivice at the television set; but nothing happened. He shook his hand, rattling the D-3, but still, they were left there. He looked confused; his vision shifted from the device to the set. What was the problem? He couldn't figure it out and looked at Taichi, exasperated.

"Did you break it?" Takeru asked.

"I don't see you with one!"

"... That's because I don't have one."

A feminine laugh attacked their ears. It came from out the TV set. She – the owner of this laughter – tried to stifle it and allow for normal talk, but every time she started speaking, she began laughing again. "I've got you now! ... Iori, get over here! It's working, just like I thought it would. Yeah, bring a stool so you can see too."

"Who the hell is that?" Taichi stared blankly at the dark box.

"Hey! Are you the ones who broke my new toy?!" Daisuke demanded, glaring at it.

"Broke your toy? What the hell are you talking about?" the girl answered. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. You all better start explaining to me what's going on! Iori and I were just coming in here to work on the computers and we saw this one, and a bunch of kids on it, standing around, talking in some dark place. I want answers… especially from that blonde hottie."

Yamato cringed.

"Hey, back off!" Taichi fumed. "You let us out of here right now, or I'm going to kick your ass!"

"You can't do that if you're stuck there!" she responded.

"You really don't want to know what's going on, and we really don't know what's going on either. Please let us out of here, we're hungry," Hikari pleaded with the voice. The answer was a scoff, signaling Hikari's failure.

"You're hungry? Well, it just so happens that I have a bag of food I took from home. And if you give me the answers I'm looking for, I'm sure I could share some of it – but answers first!"

"Hikari is hungry! Gimme it right now!" Daisuke's stomach rumbled in agreement at the mention of food; Takeru gave him a weird look from out of the corner of his eyes. "Veemon, get ready! We're gonna go rescue that food for Hikari!"

"Hey, this is between us girls! We're doing this my way, or no way at all!" the girl said shrilly.

"That means butt out, Daisuke," Takeru clarified.

"Screw you! I'm hungry too!"

"Boys!" Hikari said, agitated.

"Tell me about 'em, " Miyako grumbled. "But I think you at least have some good sense – I'm Inoue Miyako!"

"Yagami Hikari."

"THIS IS NO TIME FOR INTRODUCTIONS. I NEED FOOD."

"I thought Hikari needed the food?"

"Quiet, Takeru." Daisuke glared at him.

"Miyako-san, let me speak," a new voice said – one more calm and compassionate than the previous speaker's. "Now, if we're to let you out, and feed you, do you agree to give us the answers as part of the deal? That's pretty fair and not asking for too much."

"I didn't want to give them my sushi rolls!" Miyako whispered furiously.

"You have to give something to gain something," the new voice said back.

"We don't want to get you two involved in this. And trust me: you don't want to be involved," Takeru said, trying to reason with them.

"I'll be the judge of that!" Miyako quickly replied.

"Maybe we should listen..." Iori sounded unsure when compared to Miyako's confident tone.

"Hah! I want to hear all of these sordid details. Do you guys promise to tell us for the food?"

"YES!" They all cried at once, submitting.

"Reeeealllly promise?"

"YES!"

"I mean, willing to trade your soul promise?"  
"YES!" Daisuke yelled alone. "... Wait, what?"

"Miyako..." Iori interrupted Miyako's maniacal laughter.

"Alright, alright. Come on through, then."

Daisuke pointed his digivice at the set again. Nothing happened for a moment and he felt cheated, as though he had been tricked by the woman on the other side of the tunnel, but then a white light engulfed him and he had to close his eyes against it. When he opened them again, he was face-down on the hard wooden floor of the computer room; however, he ended up on the top of the doggy pile this time.

Groans and shouts were sent his way before he even had time to spot their former captors. A tiny weight sat buried in Daisuke's messy hair, but his large brown eyes locked onto a bag sitting on a desk across from him. It smelt good. Was this the food that they had been haggling over moments ago?

"FOOD!" Daisuke declared it was so, and scrambled from his place on top of the odd structure of human bodies. Chibimon held onto Daisuke's goggles for dear life, squeaking with the sudden movements; when the roller coaster ride stopped, he hopped down onto the smooth surface of the table. He watched as Daisuke mercilessly ripped open the bag and started devouring the delicious insides. The boy passed Chibimon an item, and the Digimon poked at it suspiciously.

Daisuke nodded to his partner, and the game was on: the race to see who could eat the most food in the shortest amount of time. It was an odd competition, wordlessly inspired, even though the ones standing behind them were protesting. Someone screamed at them to stop, but he and Chibimon were lost inside their little contest.

Their fun ended abruptly from a sharp kick to the back of Daisuke's leg and a smack to the back of his head. He swallowed and turned to see the many faces glaring at him. Two in particular were closer than the others. There Miyako stood, shaking a fist at Daisuke, and Taichi was next to her, mimicking the movement.

"Daisuke!"

"You ate it all!"

"Nu-uh!" Daisuke picked up a crumb and flicked it in Miyako's general direction. She growled and rubbed her temples in an effort to calm herself down. Getting angry wasn't going to get anything done – not at this moment, anyway. There would be plenty of opportunities to exact her revenge on this boy for eating all of the food and not even bothering to share, or even ask permission. It was her food, after all. He was almost as bad as her siblings.

"Now... tell me what the hell is going on."

"Food?" Daisuke asked hopefully.

"YOU ALREADY ATE THE BAG!" More than one voice joined in with Miyako's cry.

"Hmph."

"Oh, that's it. IORI! GRAB 'EM!"

"Miyako..." Iori shook his head slowly.

Takeru sighed, "A deal is a deal." He took a deep breath. These two were in for a world of surprise. "If Daisuke doesn't want to reiterate, then I will; there's this place called –"

"WAIT. TAKERU CAN'T TELL THE STORY; HE WON'T TELL IT RIGHT," Daisuke's shouting interrupted.

Takeru glared at him for only a split-second before he shrugged and fell silent. He found a chair to sit in and propped his legs up on another, and then waited for the new goggle boy's story.

"So you tell it!" Hikari sounded irate and so moved into a seat next to Takeru.

Yamato and Taichi quietly sneaked out together. They only waved to their respective siblings before disappearing down the dark hall.

"Okay!" Daisuke grinned, oblivious to her signals. "So, anyway, there's this place called the Digital World and lotsa little monsters live in it. Like Chibimon!" He pointed to the little Digimon, half-buried in a bag of chips while licking at the bottom. "But something bad is going on over there, 'cause this guy, Ken, told me that this other guy, Ryo, is trying to, like, take over everything. So I get to go there and stop him. It's like an adventure, with Digimon!"

"Wow... I really want to go! That sounds sooooooooooooooo cool." Miyako clasped her hands together in front of her chest. She looked longingly at the computer they had come out of a few minutes ago.

"Hah, you're kidding, right? It's sooo dangerous. And you need one of these –" Daisuke pulled his digivice out; he held it out for her to see, shining with pride at being the only one to have that model. "– to be able to get by, anyway! And I don't see you with one, so hah."

"Oh, you mean this thing?"

Miyako retrieved an almost identical device to Daisuke's, though hers was trimmed with red and white rather than his blue and white. His mouth fell open at this revelation: he thought that he was the only one, that he was so special.

"Yes, I have one as well." Iori produced his.

Daisuke's eyes darted from Miyako's to Iori's; the confusion wrote broadly across his face. He noticed that the latter's was yellow. Why did they have them too? He shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to will the images away, but when he opened them again, Miyako was still gloating.

"I guess that means I can go, huh?" She smiled.

"Uh… no." Daisuke put a damper on her hopes.

"WHAT? Why?!"

"Because... uh… you… just can't!"

"Okay, you want to play it that way? I just so happen to be the Computer Club president! And if you don't let me go, I'll ban you from the computer room forever!" Miyako grinned mischievously. This'll fix him, she thought. Why did she need his permission in the first place? If what he said was true, all she needed to go was the device in her hand and a computer.

"Miyako, one. Daisuke, zero."

"Shut up, Takeru!" Daisuke was more annoyed by how Hikari giggled after that witticism.

"Miyako! You said you wouldn't ... all of this sounds so serious," Iori added in.

"Well… uh... fine! But I'm sure you don't have a Digimon, so it's still up to me to do the important stuff!! Come on, Chibimon!" Daisuke snatched up the little Digimon still inside the little bag of chips and stormed out of the room. Miyako threw her hands up in victory, and Iori just shook his head at her. Takeru and Hikari laughed.

* * * *

"You! Did you make a deal with them too?" Ken shouted angrily. His entire body shook with fury as he stood pointing a single finger at a hidden figure cloaked by the cave's darkness. Wormmon cowered at his feet, staying as far away from the entrance without leaving his side, but tried to keep a watchful eye out for any creature that might approach from behind.

"I made no such deal," the deep voice responded.

The sounds of a beach echoed out the mouth of the cave. Red eyes were the only indications that Ken had to know whether anyone was in there. The way those crimson specks never blinked was a bit unnerving for him.

"Then why are there here? Why?" When he received no answer quickly enough, he went on, "I've been fighting this war for years. On my own, alone, with only Wormmon by my side! Where were they when I needed them? Where were they when all of this could of been prevented? Not here, no. They were at home, safe in their beds, cuddling their teddy bears like innocent little children.

"They got their 'I love you's and were tucked into bed each night with a little bed time story or song as they drifted off to sleep. They didn't constantly get asked, 'Why can't you be more like Osamu?' or told how perfect their brother was and then how worthless they were. They didn't spend night after night fighting for their very lives because of their failure in protecting a friend!

"They didn't have to deal with Osamu. They didn't have to deal with Ryo. They got to go outside and play. I was fighting a war at home, at school, in another world. It's not fair! They dare come to help me NOW – when everything is practically lost and all of my efforts are moot? That boy, that Daisuke boy – he just showed up and fought better than I ever have! So you tell me: why now? How?"

"Maybe if you had tried harder, all of this would've been prevented," the voice said with a snort.

Ken had never felt so enraged before. Nothing had ever been said to him, not by Ryo, not by Osamu, not by anyone, that made him feel this way.

Wormmon scooted away when Ken began screaming.

"Tried harder? TRIED HARDER? You know as well as I do that I've tried my hardest – I've even surpassed all original limitations with my efforts! You have no reason – no RIGHT – to try to tell me that I should have tried harder. Why don't you come out here and fight for me, then? Why don't you give this a shot? Let's see how you handle things; let's see how you manage my shameless excuse for a life!"

"I'm sure you'd rather like to give up now, right? Hm? Obviously these new players can handle Ryo; there's no need for you to even bother juggling all that you have anymore …" The voice trailed off, chuckling, and then marveled at the genius behind the original forfeiture clause in Ken's contract. Ah, the glories of a win-win situation! Freedom was so close.

"… No."

And Ken walked off.

****

* * * * * *

"Why did you watch them so closely?"

"They're invaders in my realm," the Czar spoke as monitors in front of his throne blinked to life. They showed images of the Chosen Children, who had been under surveillance from the moment he had been informed of their existence.

The throbbing pain in his head had grown worse since they arrived.

"I think you're scared of them." Laughter.

"Thinking was never your strong point, BOY!" he growled. His chair was bathed in the only light in the room, generated by one of the screens.

That new boy, the one with Veemon, had fought off that swarm of Yamnamon easily – almost too easily. Why had Ken helped him? That mystery had confounded him since the newcomers returned to the real world.

"Then why were you shaking so hard when you saw that kid with Veemon?"

"It disturbed me on how low that insect sunk." The Czar's fists tightened on his armrests. He didn't want to have this conversation.

Especially not with _him_! He was always there as the one voice the Czar couldn't bring under his command or at least quiet. He had been awfully quiet the last couple days, but it seemed he had found renewed strength.

"I thought Wormmon was the insect? Tsk, tsk, Czar. I guess you're not so smart after all." Sarcasm.

"How dare you mock me!"

The Czar leapt to his feet; his hand fell to the coiled bullwhip at his side. He'd teach that insolent voice a lesson: the Czar was not one to be toyed with. But the Czar just grumbled and sat back down, gripping his armrests until his knuckles matched the color of paper. Although it was hard to admit, the Czar couldn't conquer that little piece of the old Akiyama Ryo that still rebelled every so often.

"What were you going to do? Whip me into submission?" Laughter.

"Quit talking to me. I have work to do."

Pain, tremendous pain, flooded his head. He couldn't think, he couldn't see – it was as though he were blind. He screamed but the sound failed to reach his ears. His hands flew to his head where fingernails dug deep into the skin. Trickles of blood dripped from the scratches even though he didn't feel them.

Images flashed on the backs of his eyelids: home, Ken, the Digital World, his rule, Millenniumon, the new arrivals, his lost Digivice. It was all out of order. Strange voices howled in his mind until they intermingled and became nothing but noise. His own voice demanded silence – for things to be orderly again. It was ignored.

It was Mille's fault! If he still had what rightfully belonged to him, but now rested in the hands of that false Chosen Child, this wouldn't be a problem. That fool had taken it from him and given it to another. The indignity of it all! Order must be restored; it was the single thing that he could operate with. Those infidels must be destroyed.

"STOP YELLING... HELP

... GIVE ME

ORDER! KEN!

THE PAIN...

MAKE IT STOP!"

The Czar's headache subsided back to its usual level. He stopped screaming and then opened his eyes. He was curled in a ball hidden behind his throne. Standing quickly, he glared out into the darkness of his control room. A hand lifted to his face and felt the tears that had fallen from his eyes; they had blended with the blood that still seeped from his temples. Bloody tears.

"Don't ever do that again."

The shadow of his former self didn't respond.

****

* * * * * *

* * * * * *

EDITED BY:

M.C. Zarella.


	3. Interlude One

**This was written by M.C. Zarrella.**

**Author's Notes:**  This is a side-story meant to illustrate where LiD's Ken came from and where he might be going.  I'm glad to have been allowed to write this, seeing as I did some things that Phil (Unremarked) didn't always approve of outright.  It is an honor to write for such a great story.

**# # #**

_Light in Dark_

_Interlude #1: (no subject)_

**# # #**

When he received the first e-mail, he dragged its icon – a 16 x 16 pixel mess of pale yellow meant to resemble a letter – over to the recycle bin and left it there.  He never opened it.  The e-mail address unnerved him first; the subject line, second, but it was upsetting enough to warrant the e-mail's exile.

The next day there was a second e-mail waiting in his inbox.  He casually checked the others from the daily spam flood, and though they were mostly porn advertisements, he absorbed every sinful word and hoped that, upon checking the inbox again, the one e-mail he feared might have vanished.  But . . . but it was there.  It blinked at him expectantly with the same subject line from yesterday.

_From: digitalsurviver@digitalworld.info_

_Subject: PLEASE READ THIS.  PLEASE._

"You've been staring at the computer for five minutes, Ken," his brother, Osamu, said.  "Do something or get off.  I need to use that."

Defeated, Ken quickly recycled the e-mail and drowned his headache-inducing anxieties with a dish of chocolate ice cream.

Within the next few days, the unavoidable subject lines said more than the e-mails could have:

_Subject:  Please, please read._

_Subject: It's important._

_Subject: Don't ignore me.  Please._

_Subject: I know you're getting these._

_Subject: Aren't we friends?_

_Subject:  You don't need them._

_Subject:  Please._

_Subject:  Come._

_Subject: I'm not mad at you for before._

_Subject: I promise._

He was watching a desperate, one-sided argument.

_Subject: READ THIS OR I'LL KILL YOU._

Frequently he received e-mails with the subject lines in all caps as homage to the first two he ever encountered.  They were usually threatening.  It was hard to ignore them when they began flooding his inbox in multiples of two, three, four, and ten.  The harmless e-mails, porn advertisements or otherwise, were lost to the all-or-nothing cleanses he performed: CTRL + A + DEL.  All gone.

Another e-mail came soon after his latest expunging (_If you loved me, you would open this_; his heart knotted), disrupting the empty inbox, and he removed it; then another, deleted; another, gone; another, put in the bin.  He did this until Osamu the bystander became annoyed with the constant mouse-clicking and exploded.

This inbox swelled as Ken found another e-mail service provider.  It only took two days for the letters to uncover him again, although he hadn't specified a forwarding address at his old, swamped account.

_Subject: Don't try to hide from me._

_Subject: I know where you really live, anyway._

_Subject: (no subject)_

Wait.  That one.  (Restore that one – pull it out of the bin.)  No subject?  For all the hundreds and thousands that were sent, there was finally one e-mail that his obsessed correspondent had not titled?  No pleas, threats, caps, memories, pathos, or open wounds?  The icon winked; it was real.  Ken stirred on his hard little computer chair – the one Osamu picked out a few months ago because he liked its severe, classy edges – and dared more e-mails to appear after the _(no subject)_.  None did.  He tongued a sore hangnail nervously as the icon stared him down.

A quick, furtive look-see through the apartment proved that no one was home this time.  He sat down again, and past the spread fingers of his left hand, he watched the inbox as though it were a horror movie.  Still no new e-mails appeared.  Pulling at his bangs, Ken wondered whether it really did contain a message or not.

Before he lost his nerve, he maneuvered the pointer over and double-clicked _(no subject)_.

_Hello, Ken._

There it was: a message.  The font, a 12-point Times New Roman that went without furnishings of CTRL + B or CTRL + I, was easy to read and, justified, lined the window evenly on both sides.  Ken sucked in a breath as he scanned that first line repeatedly.  Was it? – could it be? – a harmless greeting?

_I've sent you so many e-mails this past week.  Have I done something to earn your neglect?  Is this about what happened when we last saw each other face-to-face?  I apologized for it countless times in my other e-mails._

Ken's stomach rolled over in slow-motion; he could just imagine the e-mails that contained no more than page after page of "I'm sorry" or "Forgive me," not unlike the lines written by a student receiving discipline.

_I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.  Ken, I think we're growing apart.  We need to talk more.  What I really mean to say is this: I made you an offer and you never answered.  Come.  Otherwise, how is Osamu-kun doing?  Is he still sore about that win I had over him in soccer?_

"Is that from Akiyama?" Osamu demanded, scrutinizing the screen as he leaned over Ken's shoulder.

Ken scrambled with the mouse, and after enough desperate clicking, the e-mail disappeared.  "When did you get home, onii-san?" he said; his voice trembled.

Sighing, Osamu lifted his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.  The premature creases surrounding his eyes, all those overlapping crow's feet, deepened as he alleviated the pressure.  He grimaced and turned away.

"Tell Akiyama to go to hell for me," he said, setting down his backpack by the desk.  "But what was he talking about?  'I made you an offer and you never answered,' was it?"

He unzipped his backpack and rummaged through it for his Mead notebooks and a little baggie of Fig Newtons he hadn't eaten at lunch.  Supplies acquired and also prepared to kick Ken off of the computer, he looked up to find that Ken had already left.

**# # #**

Ken liked the roof, but it took some creativity to bypass the alarm systems that protected the door leading to it.  The roof was a large, bleak expanse of gravel, ventilation shafts, some rusted tools, and a metal cage around the perimeter that prevented anyone from falling to their deaths.  He liked it all: the cement and chrome, the height and solitude.  A year ago, huddled in a sleeping bag next to Ryo, Ken had the constellations pointed out to him, and he did not have the heart to say he was already familiar with Osamu's old astronomy textbook.  Right now, however, he was alone.  He waited for the stars to appear, even when he knew that the city-glow would be too discouraging to star-watching without Ryo to insist they at least look for Orion.  Osamu might come up later and scold, or if he were to be in a better mood, might sit down too and forge a calm, companionable silence for a little while.

**# # #**

_I made you an offer and you never answered._

**# # #**

Ken remembered hands sneaking around his shoulders; he remembered a voice close to his ear, this warm trickle that seeped down the back of his neck; and he remembered that it was trying to reason with him.  There was a pungent smell on the roof that day, something close to ginger or pepper, and then his mind was gone – was anywhere else! – when Ryo began to tease his shirt's collar with two callused fingers.

"What do you think?" Ryo said, smiling.

Ken fumbled over his words.  "I – I don't –"

"It'd be like an extended camping trip.  We can fool your parents easily and my mother is a pushover.  Osamu might present a problem for us, but that's just an uphill battle that makes this opportunity worth it."

"Ryo-sama . . ."  Ken didn't like those fingers; he squirmed away from them.

"Just hear me out, okay?  I thought you'd be a little more enthusiastic about going back to the Digital World," muttered Ryo as he shook his head.  Those uncomfortable fingers snuck back up and now teased the hair grazing Ken's ears.  "I think you should grow your hair longer."

"I – excuse me?"

Ryo grinned.  "You looked too serious.  Sorry."

"Well . . ."

"I'm going to go whether or not you're with me, Ken," he said, his everyday tone more suited for a passing comment on a star formation.  The stars were invisible now, hidden by the daytime sky, and the air was heavy with humidity and that sharp aroma.

"What?"

"Tonight.  I'm leaving tonight.  Everything has already been arranged.  I want you to come with me.  You only need a couple changes of clothes and maybe a few other essentials."  He fixed Ken with a ferocious stare and said, honest-to-god, "I need you to come with me."

"I can't –"

"You don't want to see Wormmon again?" he shouted, holding up his fists.  There was a wild glint in his eyes that Ken didn't understand.  "Don't you want to go back – back to the Digital World?"

The sun in his memory sunk lower; Ken looked at it through his fingers and shivered.  Ryo paced back and forth, silent after his outburst, and sometimes reached out to touch that dark hair again (but then drew away before any formal rejection).

"Does this have something to do with Millenniumon, Ryo-sama?  Is he making you stay there?  He's been yours for so long.  Has he done something to you?  Is that why you're leaving?  I didn't want you to take him; I just knew . . ."

"My apartment.  Tonight.  Nine o'clock," Ryo babbled, avoiding the question.  The jittery edginess cocooning them made it seem as though he were asking Ken out on a first date.  "Be there.  Please.  I have to go now."

"All right," Ken said, addressing nothing.  "Okay."  He could handle this.

"Please, Ken.  Nine o'clock."  And though Ryo had been yelling not too long ago, he was pleading humbly now and pushing at his inner ankle with his other foot.  Ken wondered if Ryo had gone insane because of the Digital World and if insanity were communicable, like a disease.  "Please.  I have to go.  I love you."

"All right," Ken said again, still looking at the sun through his fingers.  The yellow light caught by his hand appeared warm, but it wasn't.

Up on the roof, suspended in the sunset, the air was too wet and smelled too much like the spice aisle at the grocery store.  At this height there was an occasional rock pigeon, and Ken watched one soar by overhead while Ryo bowed deeply and left the roof, careful not to trigger the alarm.

Ken insisted upon cleaning up after dinner.  It had to be done the old-fashioned way: he ran water over the plates and silverware liberally, brandished a sponge, and set to work with his hands mired in mother-recommended, light blue antibacterial fluid.  (He found its bottle underneath the sink, tucked in between the air freshener and carpet deodorizer.)  Thirty minutes rinsed away while he struggled with grease, and then his bemused mother decided to help him out; at half past eight they gave up, decided that modern conveniences were worth the cost, and loaded up the dishwasher with the plates that had resisted cleaning.  A remaining half-hour to nine o'clock stretched out before him.

His parents adjourned to the living room to watch an old, boring movie and Osamu wanted to be alone in the bedroom to study for some nationally standardized test.  Ken avoided looking at clocks and went for a walk to clear his head.  While taking a shortcut through the park, he heard a distant tone bleat nine times and imagined Ryo standing in front of a computer, red-eyed, waiting for him to burst through the door with his daypack stuffed to the brim and an apology.  Instead he went home slowly, deliberately pacing himself so he stepped through door a full hour after he departed.  The movie was still going and Osamu only grunted when he knocked.  Ryo was already in the Digital World.

**# # #**

_Come._

**# # #**

Presently Ken sighed and went back to the apartment, shaking a little, though imbued with determination.  He thought about Ryo's e-mails and tried pinching his nose like Osamu did, but it didn't seem to dampen the headache swelling behind his eyes.  Osamu came by with Fig Newtons, mumbled something uncivil about Akiyama around a moist purple mouthful, and sat down in the kitchen where it was cooler.  Ken went into their room and opened the closet; in its back left corner, he unearthed an old cardboard shoebox.  Under the cover were many things: shiny stones, individual Legos, sparkler candles from his last birthday cake, tattered manga, and – secreted away below elementary school report cards – a plain gray digivice, the alien among the mundane.

He brought it out carefully and wiped dust off its liquid crystal display.  There was nothing to see.  He shook it once, testing its construction, and then hastened over to the computer with these fierce steps that he mimicked subconsciously from Ryo's own purposeful stride.

It had to be like this.  He threw his hand out to the computer terminal, the digivice's display forward, unsure of what to expect – if anything at all.  Instantly the screen flickered with a million bands of red-green-blue, as though it was being degaussed, and a simple command prompt executable opened in the top left corner.  He didn't have to type anything: he just had to will the connection to open, and so the world dropped away.  It seemed too easy, so of course . . .

_Something _happened between point A and point B.

Ken had only seen the tunnels that provided passage into the Digital World twice: when he first went there and when he left.  They were psychedelic pipelines that processed you too quickly to be studied, because one second you were – let's say: – in your room and the next tumbling down a hill in the Digital World after an awkward landing.  But en route Ken opened his eyes and saw the neon colors swirling around.  Exit holes with large signs pockmarked the cylindrical conglomeration of irrational shapes and symbols that made up the tunnel.  He flew past the exits, his mind jammed before it could panic, and that part of him still functioning squeezed his bladder like a stress-ball until he thought it might burst.

The invisible current buffeted him back and forth.  He floundered against the forces helplessly, this way and that, sometimes upside-down, and in the distance of this uncharted dimension, he heard what seemed to be thunder.  When the roar grew loud enough to make his innards tremble, he thought Hell was bearing down upon him, and before he could scream, everything turned bright red.

He awoke when water touched his cheek.  He was face-down on a beach without any idea as to why he was there or how he arrived.  As pins-and-needles numbness receded from his body, he took a quick breath with cramped lungs, the first breath in a while, and then choked when brine slid down his trachea.  He sat up, turned to the right, and vomited saltwater mixed with his half-digested dinner onto the sand.  The splatter glistened in the meager light there – wherever it was – and he collapsed again, breathing hard.  His eyes tried to focus, but everything was a charcoal-colored blur.

The monochromatic quality of his surroundings didn't go away even ten minutes later when he got up onto rubbery legs and walked down the mysterious stretch of beach.  Everything, from the dimly twinkling sand to the tall seawall, accommodated a distinct shade of gray.  The clouds were heavy, silver things that layered the sky like a cushiony duvets; and because of them, there wasn't enough light to make out very much.  Only the water that stretched on into infinity was another color, and that was a flawless black, because not even whitecaps disturbed its surface.

Ken knew that he should have felt alarmed for being in such an unknown place, but since coming here the breadth of his emotions had been locked away; and in place of fear there was only an uneasy gnarl in his heart.  He picked along the beach, crunching shells, and wondered how much closer he was to the towering lighthouse in the distance that sprayed gray light in evenly timed passes.  It never seemed to come any closer.

Some sad, rotting remains of a fishing village lay beyond the seawall from what he could tell: there were considerable holes in the rock that allowed him to look in whenever he felt that gnarl tighten with what he might have called curiosity anywhere else.  The last hole showed him a decrepit avenue filled with overturned fishmonger carts and open houses haunted by an omnipresent salty mist.  He saw indiscriminate shapes lurking behind broken windows and decided to keep moving.

He stopped when he heard buzzing coming from out over the water.  It was just there without warning, the opposite of a soft noise that leached awareness gradually, and it did strange things to him: he felt lightheaded, he wanted to throw up again, and he lost his balance.  The water started to ripple: waves lapped at the shore with steadily increasing frequency.  He cried out but his voice fell flat, dead, because this place allowed no echoes.  The next defense was his digivice, which he held toward the water, eyes shut and his skin crawling.  And then just like that, he was gone.

As scheduled, he tumbled down a hill in the Digital World after an awkward landing.  At the bottom he laid upside-down for a few minutes, staring at the sky and wondering what had just happened.  His subconscious acted quickly by swallowing the memories whole, in huge gulps, and then he didn't really care what that stop-over was either way.  Just a bad dream, he thought, like those bad, split-second dreams you'll get when you tempt fate by falling asleep in class.  He stood up and looked around.

The Digital World was just as he had left it: the colors were vibrant and splashed about in patches, which never failed to make everything – ground, trees, sky – look like it had just been created by an impressionist.  Lazy cotton candy clouds floated by, resembling bloated animals, and then he suddenly saw a flash of wide gray clouds that reminded him of ash smears; even so, the image promptly dissipated.

He didn't have to go very far to find Ryo.  A sloping hillock brought Ken up to where he could overlook a level, broad expanse of natural prairie.  There was nothing remarkable about it, although nearby, beneath one of the saplings, was Ryo and the laptop that had disappeared along with him (according to his mother).  Ken went over immediately; Ryo favored him with a cold glance.

"Ryo-sama . . ." Ken murmured when he stopped.

"What's your decision?" Ryo said.  His voice was hoarse, as though he hadn't spoken aloud in a while.

"– Huh?  Decision?"

"Yes.  That's why you came, wasn't it?  It ought to have been."

"How about we start with 'hello,' Ryo-sama?"

"I have no time for that."

After only thirty seconds, everything Ken had been expecting of this confrontation became erroneous.  Their dialogue, the one he had hoped to wield well and convince Ryo to return home with, had already fallen apart.  He stared at Ryo; he tried to understand what was different.  Maybe it was the way Ryo sat, upright and stiff; or perhaps how his eyes were like dull gold lumps because of the laptop's glow; or it could be the grittiness of his disused voice.  Regardless of their details, the differences were there and they frightened him.

"I don't understand . . ."

"Are you going to join me or not?  I asked that question in every one of my e-mails, or did you fail to read more than one?"  Ryo sneered, but then the ice relented and he finally looked at Ken, wearing a perverse version of a smile.  "Sorry.  I've just been stressed lately.  Please, sit.  I want to show you something."

Ken was too bewildered to not follow the request; once seated beside Ryo, he could see the laptop's screen, but none of the text on it made sense.  Strange, rune-like symbols twisted back and forth, arranged in structures not unlike the DNA double helixes he had seen in class.  Ryo tapped one key and the lines froze, flexed noticeably, and then began moving again.

"Digital Code," Ryo said preemptively.  He pointed at one of the slower-moving lines and read off each symbol as it passed.  "_Se _. . ._ Ka _. . ._ To _. . ._ Ru _. . ._ I _. . ._ Chi_.  Roughly translated, it means 'Sector One.'  That's where we are.  It's an immense territory that encompasses nearly a fifth of the Digital World."

"What does that have to do with what you want to show me?"

Ryo grinned and his teeth shined brightly enough to hurt Ken's eyes.  "This _is _what I wanted to show you," he said.  "Look down the hill from us, okay?  Don't look at me."

Reluctantly, Ken turned to the prairie.  Nothing remarkable.  "Okay."

"Are you looking?"

"Yeah, Ryo-sama."

"In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth," Ryo whispered.

His fingers flew across the keys, and Ken noticed the modifications at once.

In retrospect, Ken had no better explanation than to say, "It died," with a queerly unsatisfied look that worsened later when he refused to elaborate.  What really happened was more visual than anything else: first the colors bled from the land, literally bled, and formed shiny pools of color – sizzling, chromatic data in its purest form – all across the prairie.  Blots of red, speckles of blue, and wallows of green were the most conspicuous casualties; the landscape that Ken once described as a painter's one-minute ideal lost its pigment, and so with that, its life.  The data popped and sparked prettily, but then Ken heard the keyboard's furious clatter, and the data receded into nothingness like an oil strike reversed.

Ken sat inches away from Ryo's laptop.  He could have seized it and thrown it to the ground, halting the destruction; he could have exacted "an eye for an eye" and hurt Ryo for hurting the Digital World; he could have done many things, and so nothing was done.  He was immobilized, and years later, suffering his angst, he did not know whether his own shock or some other sinister force prevented him from stopping Ryo.  What seemed like an eternity to Ken lasted approximately twenty-six seconds, and when that time passed, Sector One was no longer a living element of the Digital World.  The land, its spirit annihilated, transformed into no more than an outline of its former self.  At the horizon the sun shied behind ghostly trees; green-edged red light hit Ryo's little hillock and his face, giving it the appearance of a bruised tomato about to turn.  His lips were very far apart and his teeth were clenched; they squeaked when he looked at Ken, who could see the thin, translucent skin on Ryo's bottom lip splitting under the force of that demented, unchecked smile.

"And on the seventh day, my Ken," Ryo said from his throat, his jaw barely moving, "I took over."

**# # #**

Sunset.

**# # #**

Whisper: "We could have this together."

"I – I can't help you."

"Please stay.  You're my best friend."

Shout: "This is insane!"

"I'm trying to be patient, but I can't wait for you forever."

"Ryo-sama, why are you doing this?"

Scream: "Because I can, insect!  Because I can!"          

**# # #**

Night.

**# # #**

Ken couldn't remember how he came to stand between the crumbling seawall and placid black sea again.  There existed a sizable gap in his memory: he was yelling at Ryo, and then, without explanation, he was on this beach with his sneakers teasing the water.  Maybe the first visit was by accident, but it marked him; maybe he was here now to honor a subconscious wish, since this world-within-a-world could grant it.  Thinking about these maybes was an exertion he felt too dizzy and unfocused to pursue; he left it to someone else.  He wanted to enjoy the tranquility, though the smell of rotten fish bordered on overwhelming.  He noticed last the buzzing sound suspended above the unmoving water, just before all else ceased to matter.

**It's okay to feel the pain.**

"I don't want to," Ken said in an apostrophe.

**I suppose not.  Your Ryo-sama doesn't want to feel it either.**

He realized that the "voice" – a misnomer for it, since it was not an audible thing, but rather felt, as if the pulse of each word were being translated by his brain and then relayed into his consciousness directly – sounded remarkably like Osamu, despite that being absurd.  But thinking of Osamu brought back memories that this place had withdrawn temporarily from his mind: he saw Ryo's weary face, smiling and silhouetted against a foreign sun in the Digital World, just after a day-long trek.  _Ryo-sama_.

"I want to help him," he said and choked on those words.  His cheeks stung in the peculiar way they did when holding back tears.  Weakness felt dangerous to have: he knew that dark, cunning things were waiting for a lock installed on his heart to break, because open hearts extended invitations.  RSVP for occupancy.

**Do you?**

"Yes."

**Do you?**

"Yes!"

**Do you?**

"I said so already!" he yelled.  There was no echo.

**I admire you.  In a place meant to ruin all cholers on the path to atonement, you still possess fervor.  Most mortals hear my voice and explode when it registers in their brain, and yet here you are, secure, about to draw contract with me.**

He meant to ask about everything, but all he said was: "Contract?"

**Yes.  Turn around so we can make these arrangements.**

He felt the world behind him waning and bending, and he turned to see a lazy, bright line of fire appear.  It corkscrewed outward in concentric circles until a blazing portal formed; its flames split apart like a curtain as the anticipated contractor moved through them.  Ushered by the smell of wood smoke, the contractor in his large maroon cloak shook the fire away and glided up to Ken.

"Here we are," the contractor said.

Ken was irrationally afraid, as though within the last ten seconds he had developed a heart-stopping phobia for strangers in billowy garments.  The contractor favored him bemusedly with two red jewel-points stashed in an obligatorily shadowed hood.

"You're speechless, but understandably so.  It's not a common thing to make a deal with the devil."

 "A deal with . . .?" Ken said, feeling faint.  He couldn't stop staring at the long, ridged, and undeniably goat-like horns atop the contractor's head.

"Yes.  My name is Demon, and this is my domain: the Dark Ocean."

A long, funnel-like banner hung from Demon's neck to the cloak's hem, and on its dark gray surface, there were inverted pentagrams – and also bright gold symbols, which closely resembled those Ryo had displayed on the laptop.  Unable to look into Demon's hood directly for more than a few seconds at a time, as fear gripped his heart whenever he tried, Ken studied the designs and wondered where the Dark Ocean was in relation to the Digital World.

"You are very close or very far away, depending on how you look at it," Demon said and held out his arms.  From the air he plucked out items as though they were hanging there, waiting, and then he brought them down for Ken to see.  Fingers boasting thick claws (painted a ludicrous hot pink much like Wormmon's) held onto a parchment roll and long quill with a delicacy that Ken didn't assume monstrous hands to have.  "This is what we need for the contract.  You'll find that the particulars have already been written up, and all that is required is your signature."

"Don't pacts with evil usually have a catch?" Ken said, suddenly shrewd and suspicious.  Those claws were laughable because of their color, and after some smothered giggles, the paralyzing fear subsided.

"Clever boy," Demon said curtly.  He withdrew the contract and unfurled it.  "The legalese would confuse you, so I deign to translate:

"The party of the first part – that's you – agrees that they will consign something major and wholly appropriate of their own as collateral for the party of the second part's – my – services.  These services shall aid them as they attempt to end Akiyama Ryo's conquest of the Digital World.

"Should Akiyama be incapacitated with help from these services, the collateral will be awarded to the party of the second part; if he is stopped through any other means, the collateral will return to the party of the first part.  Also, if the party of the first part gives up on Akiyama, the collateral is compromised and awarded to the party of the second part by default.  While the outcome is being decided, the collateral will be left in the safekeeping of a third party that possesses no interest or bias either way.

". . . And beyond that, there is little else to speak of."

"What's the collateral meant to be?" Ken said, taking the contract again.

"It has to be of comparable worth to my services, which are almost priceless, but I'm sure we can reach some agreement."  Demon's eyes flashed and brightened his revolting snout, it torn open by a toothy grin.  "How about we wager something interesting?  Your soul, mayhap?"

"My . . . soul . . .?" Ken replied in a hushed, halted voice.  "But –"

Demon laughed raucously.  "Hilarious!  The soul is not the seat of your mind and body; in actuality, it is not truly important, no matter what a religion might tell you.  You humans are selfish, spoiled things that don't like the thought of selling something so intimate.  Losing a soul is much like losing a healthy appendix: it doesn't matter."

"Oh."  But Ken's eyes narrowed and he looked back up.  "And that's why it's collateral for something you called 'almost priceless?'"

Trapped by diction, Demon snarled and stepped forward; he pointed a long claw at Ken, who shrunk and bore terrible fear like before.

"Clever!" Demon rasped.  "But its worth is applicable only to me.  Nothing in the contract states that I must tell you what my plans with the collateral are, so you shall learn nothing."

Ken looked down at the contract in his shaking hands.  The letters were archaic, blocky, and severe on the off-colored paper; the words were difficult to read, and those that he did discern ended up giving him a headache.  Demon held out the quill to him, composure regained, and waited for a decision.

". . . I'll sign," Ken mumbled.  "If your services will help Ryo-sama, I'll sign."

"They will.  This contract is my promise."

Quill in hand, Ken pressed the nib to the line that acknowledged him as the party of the first part, and then discovered belatedly that there was no ink.  Confused, he examined the feather, and when Demon started laughing at him again, he tilted his head up and glared.

"I need an inkwell."

"Oh, I ought to have told you," Demon said, chuckling.  His eyes were lustrous again.  "You must sign in your own blood.  Prick your finger, please."

Ken hesitated, but tolerated a small cut on his left index finger (the quill's tip was surprisingly sharp), and from that he had enough blood to scratch out his name in childish cursive.  Methodically, Demon took the quill back, wiped it off, wet the tip in his own blood, and signed himself as the party of the second part.

"That's it?"

"Mm.  Now there's only the matter of your collateral.  This will sting a little."

Unprepared for it, Ken had begun to ask "What?" when Demon thrust one hand forward: five claws splayed and plunged into Ken's chest, defying skin and bone, and despite the hot gush of blood that doused the offending arm and the gray sands, his shock kept himself conscious.  Demon spread leathery bat-like wings Ken couldn't recall from before, but then his thoughts stopped when those claws clenched, closing around something in between his heart and lungs, and wrenched viciously.  The hand emerged.  There was a brilliant light tucked inside it.  Ken fell backwards without a support, dying, and watched from the ground as the soaked fingers carefully moved away from the gleaming mote.

_Is that my soul? _Ken marveled through his eyelashes.  It was as bright as the sun.

The light lessened until a small rose-colored rectangle remained in its place atop Demon's wide palm.  As the fingers began to close again, the light flared and took off into the sky as a glimmer.

"Well then," Demon said, looking down at Ken, "your soul is off to find that impartial third party to keep it safe in the interim.  Trust me when I say everything is now an uphill battle that makes this opportunity worth it."

_That sounds familiar.  Is my life flashing before my eyes?  I'm dying, aren't I?_

"Something like that.  I ought to have said!  This way of extracting your soul and a few other things slipped my mind when we were making our agreement.  I apologize.  Now, what did I miss?  Hmm.  You're going to feel terribly when you wake up.  Your digivice is going to be rather different.  There's going to be a nasty scar, and your blood might look odd, but who will know about all of that if you're discreet?  My services will be yours immediately, as I'm sure the knowledge is already trickling in on how to access them whenever you wish.  Now it's time for sleep.  Sleep."

**# # #**

Dawn.

**# # #**

When he came to, he was at home, in bed, covered in a cold sweat that made him feel sticky and embarrassed, and everything – everything – hurt very badly.  In the bathroom he saw the scar: it was a nasty spider-web of lines that made five points at the places where Demon's claws had lanced through his sternum.  Trembling a little, he realized none of it had been a dream, and the large pentagram-like brand on his chest was the evidence.  He took a long, near-scalding shower and cried, pressed up against the chilly tile.  It wasn't until afterward that he discovered his digivice had mutated into a black, ovular thing that he dubbed "Demonic" without thinking.  Much later he understood what Demon meant about his blood, because now it was a dark, unflattering purple that dismayed him the first time he saw it, after scraping his knee accidentally on the playground.  He breathed, lived, and yet his blood appeared to not be capable of oxygenizing.  It was impossible.

Visiting the Digital World again took a week because of school and his own fear for what he might find because Ryo had the leisure of seven full days to take over.  Once there he understood the buzzing that had settled in the back of his mind since the agreement: with the smallest gesture he could conjure any number of Demon's seething monsters to carry out any aim.  Scubamon were always the most easily summoned, or any rung of their evolution's ladder (up to and including): Pabumon, Yanmamon, Leviamon, the last being fearsome demon lords that still bowed to Ken's instructions.

But he tried to act pacifistically and risked a late-night visit, since otherwise his parents or Osamu would note his absence.  He found Ryo again, but things were so different.  Wormmon, beaten . . . Millenniumon controlled utterly, following Ryo's whims as he destroyed a town . . . Veemon, valiant Veemon, sealed in a flash of orange light for trying to stop Ryo from continuing his takeover . . .

In a month every sector was like the first he had seen destroyed.  Cavities of resistance were rare, surreal places that Ryo or Millenniumon had forgotten about.  Rebel presence didn't matter: nothing could be done to displace Ryo's hold.  Ken's reasoning never moved Ryo's convictions.  Inevitably, Ken turned to fists for help.

Even with Demon's forces and the other resistance fighters willing to help, the first attack on Ryo's stronghold failed miserably.  Ken didn't trust anyone but Wormmon, so he ended up slaughtering members of both sides indiscriminately on his way to the control room.  Halfway through the base he was detained; his fury spooked the superstitious, because it seemed that an eerie aftereffect of the pact had made the Digital World tune in with his emotions.  The ground bucked and wind screamed outside: a fearsome storm manifested to rival the one inside Ken.  Ryo – by now known as the Digimon Czar – only laughed off these concerns, and carved Ken's shoulder with his very own knife (another scar) to demonstrate how powerless his former friend was.  The blood was dark purple and the Czar studied it sharply.  He knew something had happened, but didn't bother to find out what.

"I'm disappointed, Ken.  You've failed."

The Czar deleted Wormmon.  From that point on Ken was known as the Terror Shinigami.

His childhood became a rape victim: he grew up going into the Digital World whenever he had the chance to seize whatever ground he could.  It was gobbled back up overnight.  Wormmon was his only ally.  At times Demon met with Ken, though the devil offered no more support than his minions, and every once in a while he tried to delude Ken into quitting his war to concede the collateral without any more fuss.  Ken was not asinine and never gave up, however, and Demon did not recognize that faith until it was too late to negate the contract.

But neither Ken nor Demon expected to have the arrival of other Chosen.  Only Demon accredited the threat posed by Motomiya Daisuke, the obstacle capable of corrupting the contract.  Demon soon received a critical notice from the soul-keeper that fortified the Motomiya menace.

The third party reported a while ago that Ken's soul – which had taken shape as the Crest of Kindness – had soured into a cold, unresponsive thing that lost its color and light only a month after separation from its true owner.  The day following Motomiya's ingress into the Digital World, an event that thoroughly infuriated Ken, the third party informed Demon of a miraculous change: the crest was pinkish again, and to touch it was less like handling ice.

Demon concluded that Ken's soul was beginning to resist its fate.  It had discovered trust, and that trust came from Motomiya's earnestness in helping Ken fight his war.

Needless to say, Demon was not happy.


	4. Three

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Author's Note and Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure 02, or any of the characters depicted. However, the storyline is completely mine and I do not want to see it replicated without my expressed permission. The characters, as they exist within my storyline, are also mine.

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Review Response: This is where I respond to the reviews left by the readers.

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TheDunedain87: _I'd be glad to explain it to you . I may be feeling that the character only has shame in the previous chapter. Their feelings was practically like a flat prairie, because it's almost just one clear feeling. If you know someone very well, you'll see that they have happiness, shame, energetic, anger, intelligence, foolishness - a mix of several sorts of feelings, sometimes even hidden. There would be a day with good feelings, where in a different day, it'll practically be the worst day of your life. Not that it was completely 2 dimensional, nor was it 3 dimensional... just kinda... For example Osamu was cold-hearted in your fic. Was there animportant part where he was a brother to Ken? Well, the TV didn't flawed him much because he was kind to Ken and also gets on his grumpy side. Plenty of times I get that from my family. Ryo, at the end, however, was a quite a bit better about having more than one feeling. Much closer to what I mean, yet still a few feet away. Of course I don't expect you to be exact, or right at my point, butI'm hoping the characters will become more 3 dimensional, or more realisitic. Anyway, I hope that'll explain better than my previous review. I also hope that you'll keep up with your wonderful works and try to improve in whatever way you can. I know I sound corny :P_

Ken's life really sucks right now, so all he has is the sad aspect of his emotions, which was what I was trying to show in the first chapter. Ken's world = Sucks. But when we see Daisuke, we see a wide range of emotions because his world is much happier with ups and downs instead of just the latter. Daisuke's world = Good. See? As for Osamu, most of the time in canon, he is shown as a bastard to Ken. He'll get more character depth, development, and scene time later, including in this chapter. I hope that fixes things for you!

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K-I: Hello. I read the third chapter on this, but I'm not big on the way it turned out. Not that it isn't good, it's just not my thing, really. (I think I'm babaling.) What I mean to say is: this is a very interesting fic. I love the originality and depth. Sometimes the detail becomes annoying, but at least it isn't just pointless grumblings intended to make the chapter longer. Captivating. One question: it seems as though Osamu doesn't know about the Digital World (Ken's thought on how fascinated by the program he would be if he knew about it), but he knows about Wormmon. How did that fly? Very nicely done fic. I look forward to seeing where it goes.

Well, it's simple, really. Osamu knows that Ken went to the Digital World, which he knows about, and got Wormmon. He just doesn't know HOW to get to the Digital World. He knows the world exists, but not the Gateway program to it. Osamu'll become more important later. And thank you for pointing that little inconsistency out!

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Hyperly Mad: This is a fantastic fic with depth, originality and different POVs.I think it is wonderfully written, better than many other fics by a good distance. I'd love to read the next chapter. On a less complimenting note(not its not the alomst zero amount of typos), I'm getting a little confused on whose's story this is. I know the ideal came from M.C.Zarrella (I'm presuming A.K.A. Michelle) and the third chapter was also written by her, not to mention that she edited the fic. I'm curious as to how much she edited as I've seem to have read a mixture of styles. So I'm wondering, is this a joint fic or is Michelle just helping? Other than that little confusing, it's a lovely fic and I can't wait till you update again!

I'll be more than happy to clear this up! I figured this would become confusing sooner or later. The story is mine, the original idea is mine (the "What if Ryo was Kaiser instead of Ken" idea, that is.), and—minus the interlude—I do all of the writing. Michelle (M.C. Zarrella) writes better than I do and has more skill, so that might be why you're seeing such a mixture. I purposely told her that when she edits the fic to not change anything that's in my style. The only thing she edits is grammar/spelling errors I overlook during writing. She also gives me ideas (scenes, dialogue for certain characters I don't like but want to keep true to their character, etc.) and inspiration for things. Because she helped me out so much, not to mention loves the world I created, I asked her to write the side-story for me. I hope that makes things clearer for you!

FF.net made me got rid of my stars. And my emoticons. I pout for this.

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# # # #

# # # #

light IN dark

# # # #

Chapter Three

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# # # #

Daisuke's head hit the ground instead of his feet, while Veemon landed gracefully beside him. The Chosen Child climbed to his feet and tried to wipe away the smudge of black earth clunging to his forehead.

"Every time!" he declared with a slight edge to his voice. Veemon muffled a chuckle, though unsuccessfully, and Daisuke heard. With a glare, he added: "Think that's funny, do ya?"

Veemon gulped and shook his head. That baleful tone reminded Veemon of Ryo, who often used his voice to threaten. Trust faltered: Would Daisuke punish him like his former partner did? Veemon closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable discipline, and then it commenced. Daisuke's arm circled Veemon's neck and placed him into a tight headlock; knuckles came down, less fierce than expected, and ground into Veemon's leathery scalp.

"NOOGIE ATTACK!"

Veemon's eyes opened: Daisuke was grinning down at him. They laughed together, Daisuke at the situation and Veemon because Daisuke's knuckles were only ticklish. As their laughter calmed to weak giggles, a sudden and vicious roar in the distance caused them to jump and separate. They realized simultaneously that this was no time to be having fun when there were angry, possibly hungry Digimon running about in the Digital World; and besides, they had a job to do.

"Which way, Veemon?" Daisuke asked as he stared at the endless horizon.

"I don't know."

"Then we go…" Daisuke closed his eyes and spun around, finger pointing outward. When he became almost too dizzy to stand, he stopped; Veemon laughed as he stumbled around, attempting to stay upright. His eyes opened and he nodded in the direction his finger indicated. "That way!"

Without waiting for protest, he started walking.

Fire signals flickered in the distance, orange flame giving way to purple, but Daisuke's focus was too concerned with finding the Digimon Czar. If the Czar dared to show his face, Daisuke would be all over it like a starving mosquito on unprotected flesh.

The roar from before came back, though it was closer now. Veemon decisively looked toward its source and squinted. It was closer, yes—too close for his comfort. He cautioned Daisuke that they shouldn't travel out in the open any longer.

"Don't be stupid, Veemon. It's not like we can't whatever the Czar throws at us. Besides, if we hide, we won't be able to see if that Ken is around here or not. That's the real reason we came, remember?" Daisuke nodded like a wise old sage and conveniently forgot his stress on confronting the Czar instead. Veemon grumbled something quietly, but his complaints were trampled underfoot as Daisuke strode past unheedingly.

"OI! KEN!" Daisuke cupped his hands around his mouth and started calling for his new target.

No response came; he called again with the same results. He scratched his head, trying to figure out why he wasn't getting an answer, and finally paid attention to the horizon for any signal fires: as hoped for, there were purple flames nearby he should have noticed before but didn't because he was Daisuke. They danced madly in the wind, taunting him, but he grinned.

"He's around here somewhere… KEEEN!"

Veemon pulled at Daisuke's arm and advised against continuing his current actions. They would undoubtedly attract unwanted attention if Daisuke kept screaming like that. Daisuke just grinned, oblivious to the warning, and started calling again; his mind was clear of doubts because he believed they could beat up any attacking whatever-mon.

Without warning a slew of dead trees fell away and broke into digitized dust; a dark fog-like cloud of it creepy towards Daisuke and Veemon. The roar split the air again, but now it was on top of them; or rather, it was charging at them. A monochromatic Digimon—appropriately named Monochromon—burst into view, driving the dust clouds away, and galloped toward Daisuke with one long, deadly horn lowered and its dark red eyes flashing. Daisuke was temporarily too surprised to move.

"Daisuke!" Veemon yelled and dived; he shoved Daisuke out of the way and also managed to avoid being run down.

Monochromon charged past them, unable to stop his forward momentum so soon, and halted only when he plowed into the rock of the nearest mesa. He screamed in both rage and pain, shook loose of the rocks falling down around him, and turned to face them again. One leg kicked up the ground as he prepared to charge again.

"That damn thing gettin' the jump on on us! We'll show him who's boss! I oughtta go kick his ass myself!" Daisuke spat angrily as he stood up again. Veemon rose in front of him, ready to attack. "Good save there, Veemon. Now let's show him how it's done—Digimental, UP!"

"Veemon, armor evolve!" In a whorl of bright orange fire and pulsing red lights, the clawed and masked and horned higher evolution of Daisuke's partner Digimon stood ready to fight: "Flamedramon!"

Monochromon launched at Flamdramon, head lowered and horn ready to take him out. Flamedramon rushed toward his opponent; they met halfway when Flamedramon used Monochroman's long snout as a springboard to flip into the air. He pivoted and brought his arms forward—"FIRE ROCKET!"—and sent a ruin of fire balls at Monochromon.

Flames encircled Monochromon, but when they dispersed, he remained standing. Daisuke shouted something in dismay—something unpremeditated about Monochromon cheating. Flamedramon fell from the sky, positioned so that his claws sunk into and ripped through the unprotected and yet vital chinks in Monochromon's neck armor; thereafter Monochroman split into fragments that were only at the whim of the wind.

"YEAH! One down, losta more to go!" Daisuke cried in victory.

"Idiot," said a voice from behind him, though Daisuke already knew who it belonged to.

He grinned and turned to face the person he had been trying to find: Ken stood atop a low rose with his arms folded over his chest. He glared ahead, past Daisuke, at the wheeling remains of data as they blew away. He didn't feel sorry for it at all, but …

"Oi, Ken, there you are. I've been looking all over for you."

Daisuke walked toward him with a proud smirk on his face. Ken turned his eyes away and hated that mocking, toothy grin. That Motomiya was obviously trying to show him up—show that he was superior here. Ken tried valiantly to ignore the buzzing sound of insects in his ears.

"You found me. Now get lost." Ken turned quickly and went back towards the forest he had emerged from to watch the battle.

"Hey! Wait a second!" Daisuke followed with a pace only slightly faster than Ken's. It was enough to catch up with him and also to be ahead by a small, insignificant amount. "I'm coming with you. You said that if I could pick up that egg and free Veemon, I could help you. I did it, so now we get to kick the Czar's ass—together!"

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"Just what are you doing, anyway?" Curiosity.

"None of your fucking business." His headaches were coming back again. He tried to ignore them; he tried to bury himself in his work. He typed furiously on a mostly invisible keyboard while watching one monitor's sequence of ones and zeros, and another's video feed of Ichijouji Ken and his new companion.

"Hey—my body, my business." Joking.

"I have no time for your comedy routines. And truth be told, you're not very funny. Now be quiet, little humorless clown." The Czar smiled at his own wit's brilliance, believing he had successfully defeated his unseen counterpart. Ryo remained quiet for a minute, but then returned.

"Aww, come on, Czar-y." Baby-talk. "Don't be like that. If you keep up that attitude, I might have to bend you over my knee and give the baby a spanking."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"Well, technically, you AREa baby." Laughter. "You've only been around for… what... a year? Aww... did I strike a nerve?" More.

"I'll find a way one day to quiet you for good. Maybe the death of your friend Ken would do it? Hmm? What do you think about that, smart guy? Where are your witty remarks now, huh? Oh, I could do numerous things to him. Let's see: I might just start with dipping his feet in salt, and having a goat lick them raw, and then repeating that said procedure with different parts of his body. Wouldn't that be fun? I'd get a real kick out of it."

Nothing. No response.

"I thought that might quiet you. Now let me work." The Czar had won this battle—perhaps the war. He had found the one weapon he could use against his alter-ego, which would end his annoyances. The Czar felt happy and light, as though he had found the cure for cancer and was keeping it secret from the needy.

"You couldn't bring yourself to do it before." Rebellious.

The Czar's typing stopped immediately. "I... still felt the personal attachment that you had with him. You weren't completely dominated then. It was a different time. Now you are mine, and he could be mine any time I want."

"Then why do you shake whenever you see this new boy?" Accusing.

"I don't like surprises. He's a surprise."

"YOU PRACTICALLY LOVED KEN. Don't give me that bullshit. I'm a mind reader, remember?" Taunting. "That's the only thing I can do now: sit back and watch because I'm a prisoner in my own head. But you got one thing wrong: you never dominated me. You won't ever. If anything happens to Ken, I'll never shut up. You'll never be rid of me. I'll annoy you from the moment we wake up to the moment you kill us. Hear me? HEAR ME?!" Fury.

"... I didn't love him."

"Yes, you did. You loved—no, love—him. Like… like the devil loves to take something beautifully innocent and twist it into something hideously ugly."

The Czar smirked. "I am good, aren't I? Look at him now."

****

# # # #

"Fine, alright. Listen: if you are going to be with me, then you have to follow MY lead. Follow MY orders. If you don't like that, you can take a hike. Got it?" Ken growled dangerously. He had already tried several times to lose Daisuke, or to persuade him not to continue on this journey; but neither one had deterred hard-headed Motomiya.

"Yeah, yeah; sure, sure. Let's go!" Daisuke bounded ahead with seemingly limitless energy. He paused for a second to look back at Ken, and then he grinned an infernal grin that drove Ken half-mad. Veemon and Wormmon traveled a distance from the other two, though they kept careful watch. "So where we going?"

"To a free village," Ken replied.

Buzzing insects droned on inside Ken's skull: he thought playfully of unleashing a horde of the damn things on Daisuke. That would shut him up, at least. But then another thought came to mind: what if he did that and Daisuke defeated them like before? The boy had power, Ken knew, but he didn't know why it was invested in him. It was a vexing mystery.

"How come?"

The droning worsened; Ken fought back the sounds and the rising urge to use his cursed gifts. "Do you understand the concept of 'need to know' versus 'want to know', Motomiya? You don't need to know, so you won't. Now quit asking questions and follow behind me like a good little soldier boy."

Daisuke frowned; it was a bizarre ever-so-slight tilt downward from his otherwise constant grin. They walked side-by-side for a little while, Ken keeping to himself and Daisuke scanning the unchanging scenery around them. Their surroundings were drab and uninteresting here. He had heard stories from Hikari and Takeru about the Digital World when it had been pretty; it was impossible to imagine what it could have looked like before.

Whistling an impulsive tune to himself, he quickened his pace unconsciously and moved a few inches in front of Ken, enough to be the new apparent leader of this mission to wherever. Ken picked up on this and in turn moved faster to stay ahead. They competed like this, a constantly swaying victory meant to determine who was leading whom, while Veemon and Wormmon struggled to keep up.

Their destination arose soon thereafter: broken and burnt defensive walls, much like those at Primary Village, only attributed to the hollowed semblance the village had to a charred skeleton. Everything was shaded by bland browns and grays, while above them the pale blue sky was devoid of the Czar's strange aerial bases. The ruddy huts made of only scraps huddled together. Thankfully the wind was still, Daisuke thought: otherwise those buildings might be destroyed by a sudden gust.

Daisuke was afraid to breathe on them. "Is this it?"

"Yes—now be quiet and don't do anything stupid," Ken responded harshly. He drew his ornate dagger from somewhere behind his back. Wormmon moved ahead as an advance scout; Veemon stayed beside Daisuke, unsure of what he was supposed to do.

"All right. OI! Hey! Anybody home?" Daisuke shouted with both hands cupped around his mouth to strengthen his voice. He barely noticed Ken's twitching eyebrow.

Clearly, Daisuke expected to be welcomed as a hero; he expected confetti to rain down from the sky; he expected to be lifted up onto the citizenry's shoulders and later have a section of town named in his honor.

But that wasn't the case: a single, slender Digimon—a Renamon—appeared in the center of town, although it was only a clearing where no homes had been built. It had yellow fur and piercing blue eyes that turned immediately toward Ken and glared, since it didn't seem to notice Daisuke. When it spoke, the hatred in its voice was nearly tangible: "What do you want, Terror Shinigami?"

"Information, cannon fodder—the works," Ken said.

"I'm afraid we cannot accommodate you this time, Terror Shinigami." Those eyes closed briefly in something longer than a blink. "And... I wish you the best of luck, because soon you'll be burning in the afterlife."

Then they came: the rest of the town exploded out of their ramshackle homes, roaring and running right for Ken. He reacted as though having expected this and dodged the incoming attacks effortlessly. Wormmon counterattacked with his webs; however, since these webs hardened after exposure to air, they acted more like projectiles than nets. Nearby Veemon rewarded any impromptu opponents with a head-butt.

Daisuke yelled something, but his voice was drowned out by sounds of the other Digimon. He dodged a stray ice attack here—a fire ball there—but he was largely ignored. Ken was their target.

"Veemon, help Ken!" Daisuke yelled again, trying to get through the near-solid wall of combative Digimon. Veemon called back that he was unable to see Ichijouji, must less anything else.

Suddenly the chaotic action came to an end, and Daisuke became aware of his pounding heartbeat. The wall of Digimon parted and slumped to the ground in hurried bowing, because Ken had found the Renamon amidst the struggle and now his blade pressed against its vulnerable throat.

"Good boy. Now you will give me the information I want, and you'll order every Rookie level Digimon you have to join me," Ken snarled. "Or I'll slit your throat right here and that'll be the end of you. This dagger doesn't allow Digimon to be reborn—I programmed it myself. Do you want to see an example?"

The Renamon nobly did not reply.

"Ken, no! What the hell are you doing?" Daisuke cried in disbelief.

"Be quiet, Motomiya."

"Let him go!"

Ken had heard that command before from so many different creatures, though in so many similar scenarios. They pleaded with him, begged for peace and for mercy; nonetheless, their voices went disregarded. Why was Daisuke's demand so different? The words came together and froze into a solid lump of ice in Ken's stomach. His heartbeat drummed louder than the incessant buzzing within his head. What did it matter that those words came from _him_, the nuisance, someone despised?

". . . What?" Ken sounded confused, as though he were fighting to wake from the stickiness of a dream. The question came at him: was Daisuke turning against him—siding with the creature whose very life now depended on his notoriously lacking mercy? Ken stared at Daisuke, and saw the tense, controlled fury there.

"I said let him go!"

"Motomiya, I'm doing what I have to," Ken said, shaking himself mentally.

"What you're doing is no better than what the Czar is doing! Let him go, Ken. He doesn't want to help us and you have no right to try and make him! Please, Ken—there's a better way." Daisuke was pleading with him? Ken couldn't believe it. Didn't that boy know that this way was the only way to defeat the Czar?

No—no, it's not, said half of the conflict. When one side finally won out over the other, Ken relaxed his hand and pulled the blade away from the Renamon's neck. He shook his head speechlessly, because as much as he hated to admit it, Daisuke was right. When did things first come to this level where he was willing to kill innocents in order to achieve his goals?

He didn't realize, however, that the Renamon wasn't going to be so forgiving. It pivoted and kicked Ken in the stomach, and with that momentum it leapt into the overjoyed crowd. Those that had been quiet and submissive during Ken's threats came to life again: they jumped upon the temporarily stunned Terror Shinigami and buried him, muffling his screams.

"KEN!" Daisuke yelled as he dove onto the mound.

He scratched, clawed, and bit at the Digimon; Wormmon joined him, and together they desperately tried fighting toward Ken. Flamedramon replaced Veemon and aided in throwing Digimon after Digimon from the pile-up. The stubborn ones were deleted. At last Daisuke touched Ken's wrist and pulled him away from the few attackers left, though they were preoccupied with Flamedramon.

"Oi, Ken, wake up." He supported the boy's head with his arm and waited for a response, but once ferocious-yet-cold-yet-gentle eyes remained hidden behind pale eyelids. Daisuke shouted at him to wake up, but not even that abrasive voice caused Ken to stir.

As a last-ditch effort, Daisuke brought up his hand and slapped it across Ken's cheek.

"LIVE!"

****

# # # #

Ichijouji Osamu woke up. He rolled over onto his back and threw off his blankets. He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. The new day had come, again. It seemed that he had only just gone to sleep—he knew insomnia and intellectually superiority come hand in hand. He dropped down from his top bunk, defying the poorly made ladder he had to use when he was younger.

He yawned and stretched out his arms—one still encased in a purple cast dotted with signatures and get-well messages—then scratched the top of his head. He wondered why Ken hadn't come to wake him up. A voice in the back of his head told him that his younger brother was probably just being a lazy bum. He glanced towards his brother's bed: it was empty; in fact, it had been untouched since yesterday.

"Ken?" he asked, despite knowing there would be no answer. Osamu started replaying the events in his head. They had gone to school. The day had been boring. When it ended, Osamu and Ken left with his friends. Then Osamu went out with them again, to get some coffee—wait. Wait. That was it. Ken must have left sometime after he left again. But to where?

He shook his head. There was nothing he could do right then; he would have to wait until after school to find Ken.

As he went into the hall toward the bathroom, he thought about his brother. He didn't blame Ken for his broken arm, though it had technically been his fault. In all honesty, he blamed himself for not seeing his brother's attack coming. He told his parents that a large van had clipped him on the curb while he was walking home from school; his friends were duped by the same story. They bought it and Ken's involvement was never mentioned in the first place.

After washing, Osamu returned to his room and changed from pajamas into his Tamachi uniform. He carefully buttoned up the neck and made sure the creases were perfect. One last glance was given to Ken's bed as he left and worry folded his brow.

"Oh, Osamu? Did you make sure Ken was awake?" his mother called while he slipped on his shoes at the front door.

"Ken went to school early. He said he had some tutoring sessions to go," Osamu said easily, lying through his teeth.

Lies were almost second nature to him. He didn't even bother making up logical reasons for why things happened the way they did inside his carefully untangled webs. His parents always believed him anyway: if he told them that gravity had reversed, they would jump out of a window just to try it out.

"Where the hell are you, Ken?" he muttered.

Walking to school without his brother's company was boring, and he felt lonely without wanting to. He stepped through the school gates, head held high as the whispering begun just like any other morning. He was always a little curious as to what they were saying, but he decided that—in the end—it didn't even matter, so he never pursued the matter any further than mere speculation. Undoubtedly there were envious of his genius, anyway. He grinned.

"Osamu!"

His friends greeted him together, though the first to call out had been a boy with wild, spiked brown hair sitting atop a picnic table near the school's entrance. Osamu waved back, oblivious to the way the boy's green eyes narrowed sharply when they noticed the absence of Osamu's brother.

"Hey, Kyodai. Have you seen Ken?" Osamu asked, but then glared and added: "Oh, come on—button your coat. You're disrespecting the school. You should be honored to go here."

Kyodai had selective hearing when it came to Osamu's sermons.

"What's he look like? Your bother's keeper?" a girl answered instead. She was sitting very straight and professionally on a bench beside the picnic table. Osamu always thought she looked very much like a rock star with her long silver-highlighted blonde hair and independently messy bangs. Osamu almost rose to the gibe before he realized her blue eyes were warm with friendly laughter.

"Quiet, Akemi. I'm too tired for your 'witty' remarks."

Two others sat with them. The first was a boy with blonde hair—the tips were dyed black—who stared off into space, paying no immediate attention to Osamu's arrival. His name was Hoshi and he was lost inside his own thoughts; usually he was quiet until the opportunity arose to insult Kyodai, and needless to say, opportunities like that came often. Those consequent quarrels always humored Osamu.

Then there was a girl named Naoko. She had long, purple-colored hair and eyes that matched. Right now she was buried in a novel and oblivious as well. Like Hoshi, she was quiet, but only because of her introversion; nonetheless, she always tried to be polite and considerate of other people's feelings: she was the most human of the group, if you will.

"Hey, Akemi—Tendou's missing too. Maybe it's a conspiracy?" Kyodai grinned at her.

"Hm… I think you might be on to something. We might have to stuff Osamu away in some locker. For his protection, of course. I would hate for anything to happen to our resident genius," Akemi said, smiling at Kyodai and then Osamu. Kyodai laughed with her.

Osamu, frustrated without an answer to Ken's disappearing act, shook his head and told them that they were insane. He bid them goodbye and walked into the school; if he got to his first class with enough time to spare, he could get a little extra asleep in. And, perhaps, if he made up a convincing story, his teacher would let him doze for even longer during class. After all, his first class was Physics—who needs that?

When Osamu was clearly inside the school and out of earshot, Kyodai spoke again: "Looks like we've lost him again. I wonder if the Czar got 'im for once, or something?" To dismiss that grim possibility, he shook his head. "So… who gets to be the bearer of bad news and tell the boss?"

"I would rather not," Naoko said immediately.

"Not me," Hoshi said.

"You know that he loves to shoot the messenger—so I'm out," Akemi said.

"Hey, guys! Sorry that I'm late. My alarm clock had a bullet lodged in it," another boy—Tendou—called as he strode up to the picnic table. He had long black hair and black eyes. Tendou stopped short when he noticed their devious grins and stars. "Eh? … What? Why are you all staring at me like that? Whatever it is, I'm not doing it!"

****

# # # #

Ring.

The bell let out its call to freedom. Sheer chaos erupted as students spilled from the school, crying and shoving out into the evening, aware only subconsciously that they would have to return tomorrow. Right now everyone was happy that they were one day closer to vacation. Takeru and Hikari strayed behind the stampede, and at the front of the school they waited for Miyako and Iori.

"Daisuke wasn't in school today," Takeru said first.

"Yeah, that's not like him. No matter how much he complains about having to go to school, he still doesn't miss a day. This is weird," Hikari added.

"Do you think he went into the Digital World alone?"

"I don't know… he might have."

"I wouldn't put is past him. When Iori and Miyako get here, we'll go looking for him," Takeru said. "And a coke says he's staring at shiny objects when we find him."

Hikari laughed.

"Hey, Hikari!" Miyako's high-pitched voice pierced the residual clamor generated by the crowd rioting toward the front gates. She went down the steps two at a time with Iori behind her valiantly pushing through other students.

Hikari waved at both of them and smiled when Iori bowed his head a number of times, apologizing for their half-second tardiness.

"So are we going to the Digi—" Miyako caught herself after noticing the looks on Hikaru and Takeru's faces. They weren't supposed to talk about Digimon, the Digital World, or Digi-anything while there were other people around. "—you-know-where today?"

"Yeah. Daisuke is missing, so we're going to see if that's where he disappeared to," Takeru said as the surrogate leader in Daisuke's absence.

"All right! What are we waiting for? Let's go—go—go!" Miyako yelled energetically as she sped back into the school toward the computer room.

Everyone else shook their heads in dismay and then traveled there less hurriedly. Along the way Takeru explained to Iori about the Digital World—what he should expect when he got there. Iori nodded politely after each sentence.

Miyako was already typing furiously away at a computer terminal when they arrived. She grinned and pointed a single finger into the air, crying "Bingo!" when she discovered the all-important Gateway program. When they were all ready, they each pointed their digivices at the screen.

They landed in a confusion of arms and legs; nonetheless, it didn't take them long to disentangle themselves. Miyako was the first back on her feet. She took a good look around at the Digital World: barren rocks and tall, pyramidal buildings were the only features here. Above her was a familiar blue sky, but the strange and bulbous bases floating up there provided ugly opposition.

"What are those?" she asked, pointing at one of the ugly bases.

"I dunno. Millenniumon wasn't very forthcoming with answers. He thought of our being here as more of a game," Takeru said and dusted off his hat before helping Hikari up too.

"This doesn't look like a very pleasant place," Iori said warily.

"It didn't always look like this," Hikaru murmured. "Takeru and I were here when we were younger… trees were everywhere—more trees than you could count! Everything was so green and pretty, and the flowers were always in bloom. Everywhere you looked there were happy Digimon. I don't understand how someone could make things like this."

"Let's go. We have to find Daisuke before something with large teeth finds us," Takeru said as he draped an arm around Hikari's shoulders comfortingly. "I think we should try to check out that pyramid over there first. I have a good feeling that Daisuke will be there."

"What makes you think that?" Miyako wondered.

"It's shiny." Takeru indicated the top of the pyramid: two bright motes of red and yellow light blinked on and off.

They all started in that direction, slowly and cautiously as first; however, as they got closer, their speed picked up a little to get further from the open areas. Takeru and Hikari went mainly in silence, listening to Miyako and Iori (though it was mostly Miyako) talk in subdued tones.

Takeru couldn't help but wonder where Patamon was. None of the former Chosen Children had been contacted by their partners except for Taichi—and Agumon barely had any idea where the others were. Impulsive déjà vu washed over him: he thought about the Chosen Children he had traveled with originally, and how they couldn't be here with him right now. Koushirou had been out of town at a computer seminar; Jyou was still too busy with school; Mimi vacationed in America; Sora was stuck in a tennis camp. Taichi kept everyone updated through e-mail. Surprisingly enough, Yamato put his band activities on old and spent most of his time with Taichi, though they were unsure what to do.

Was Patamon okay? He didn't know, and that made him unhappy. Like Hikari had reflected, he too wondered about the one responsible for doing this to the Digital World. He glanced over at Hikari whose concern materialized on her face. Undoubtedly she was thinking about Tailmon.

"Hang on. Do you see what I see?" Miyako whispered, causing everyone to come to a halt in front of the hill they were about to crest. ("See what? I can't see anything Miyako," Iori complained in the background, standing on his tiptoes.)

Miyako motioned down; everyone lowered onto their knees and inched up to the top of the hill.

"There are two Digimon guarding the entrance to the pyramid," Takeru said. "Knightmon, it looks like—but there's something wrong with their face."

Marching back and forth in front of the gigantic entrance were too heavily armored Digimon wielding thick bastard swords. Black and shiny objects were attached to their helmets, right in between their eyes; these objects looked like beetles with dark wings spread wide. Silver wires ran from beneath each and were attached to various places on the Knightmons' heads.

"Great. Guess we don't get to find out what's inside that place." Miyako pouted and fiddled with her glasses.

"Not necessarily," Takeru said. "I'll go get their attention, so you can Iori can go inside and find Daisuke. Those guards have to be protecting something—it might be him."

"Maybe we could all try to sneak past them?" Hikari suggested. "I don't want us to split up."

"No, that's too risky."

"Maybe I should be the decoy?" Iori offered. "I am the smallest here; I could probably hide better than any of you."

"No way! I'm not letting you out of my sight, Iori. From four to six PM, you are my responsibility. Your mom would have my head if something happened," Miyako protested vehemently.

"I'm going," Takeru decided and stood.

"Be careful!"

"I'll be fine, Hikari," he said, grinning. "Kick Daisuke for me, will ya?"

Takeru launched himself over the hill and ran down it at full speed. The Knightmon kept their patrolling patterns in front of the door, completely unaware of his presence. Takeru came up in front of them and started screaming and waving his arms wildly, but they paid no attention.

"HEY, UGLY! CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!"

One Knightmon turned laboriously and noticed Takeru: its eyes flashed red and suddenly it was after him, nearly overcoming his position before he could react. But after long-legged Takeru began running again, the encumbered Digimon was left a safe distance behind him. The other guard, however, remained at the door, and kept on marching despite its partner's leave.

Miyako sighed. "There's still one left! And we're all out of stupid boys to act as a decoy."

Without warning, Hikari stood and clamored over the hill too. She followed Takeru's path to the remaining Knightmon and repeated the process of yelling and flailing to get it riled. When she succeeded, she took off in the same direction that Takeru had with the Knightmon tailing her.

Miyako slapped her forehead, but then exclaimed: "Come on, now's our chance!" She grabbed Iori's wrist and they charged down the hill and dashed into the temple without even checking for any more guards. There was a third Knightmon sitting at the end of the foyer; they dived behind one of several concrete pillars.

She waited and listened: the Knightmon was snoring and she had to muffle her laughter. The third guard was asleep! One finger to her lips told Iori to be quiet. They tiptoed over to the Knightmon and around it, then started up the large spiral staircase that he had been guarding.

They saw no sign of Daisuke when they reached the top of the stairs and move out onto the upper floor, but the red and yellow pulsing lights caught their attention. The closer they approached the dimmer the lights became until there were only two strange egg-like items. One was metallic, had two wings sticking out from each side, and an upside-down heart motif was stenciled in the center. The other was yellow and a strange symbol bearing purple two circles adorned it; from its top a small horn stuck out. Both were situated on a wooden pedestal.

"Miyako?" Iori whispered.

"Yeah, I feel it too."

She walked up to the metal egg and wrapped her hands around it; with one little tug it lifted into the air, though she had expected it to be heavy. Before she could think about it for too long, a stream of red light shot out of the hole it had been covering, and a creature came together in a swirl of bright sparkles. It was a bird: it dropped down before her and she stumbled away in surprise. Her first reaction was to throw the egg at it.

"What the hell is that?" she cried.

"Madam, I am Hawkmon," he said, bowing gracefully and catching the egg at the same time. "And if you are the one who pulled this egg from its place, then you are the one I am destined to be partnered with. I am at your service."

Iori looked at both of them, and then turned to pull the yellow egg from its place. Another light came from another hole, but instead of a bird, an armadillo rolled out of the light and landed without much finesse at Iori's feet. It unfolded and looked up at the boy. "Hiya! My name's Armadimon. You don't smell so bad, so I guess you're my new friend. Pleased to meet ya!"

"Hello. I'm Iori," Iori said, bowing politely. He squatted down to look Armadimon in the eye and held up the egg. "What were you doing underneath this?"

"Oh, the Digimental?" Armadimon poked it and laughed. "That's a long story. But to make it short: see, the Digimon Czar recruited me and my buddy Hawkmon to be part of his army. Heck, we were even supposed to be partners with that guy! He kept talking about unlocking our potential or some other mumbojumbo. Well… he never did, and it made him mad. He's very scary when he's mad, you know. I never did like the way he smelt, so one day, me and Hawkmon just had enough with him. But before we could leave he put us under those Digimentals."

"I see," Iori said quietly.

"Tough break, huh?" Miyako added.

"Miyako…"

"Indeed," Hawkmon chirped. "But we are free again, and we offer you our services for the coming war."

"War? We're not in any war!" Miyako said, alarmed.

"Of course you are. You must be. You must be here to defeat the Digimon Czar, and the only way to do that is through war. However, you have my promise, my Miyako, that no harm shall come to you while I am still breathing. We will give that Digimon Czar such a fight—he will regret the day he was born!"

****

# # # #

He kept running—even though he was sure he had lost his pursuer—because he was doubling back along a more time-costly route toward the pyramid. The Knightmon had been no match for his speed; he couldn't help but grin proudly.

Something caught his eye on the way: a flash of pink followed by heavy, thundering footsteps. He stopped altogether when he turned his head and saw the pink belonged to a person, to Hikari, and the footsteps to a Knightmon—he sprinted after them.

"Hikari! What are you doing?" he called as he caught up with them.

"Only… one…went after… you! I had… to get the other... away!" Hikari panted.

She looked over her shoulder; the Knightmon was still coming at them. Then, ironically, over the next rise there was an inopportune, wide rock monolith forming one side of another structure. A dead end. They were trapped. They slowed and stopped. The guard stopped too, just a dozen yards away from them.

"Don't worry, Hikari. Everything'll be okay. Just watch." Takeru took Hikari's hands. She looked at him with a faint, forced smile—she didn't really believe him…

This was it? This was the end? she wondered. The story of Takaishi Takeru and Yagami Hikari ends in a valley somewhere in the Digital World; they'll be beaten by an overly powerful Digimon. He silently wished for Patamon, or even Daisuke, to show up and save them from this mess.

The Knightmon raised its sword over its head; Takeru swore he heard it chuckling darkly. It took one step toward its victims, who in turn pressed their backs against the rock wall and shut their eyes. This had happened before with the Yamnamon. Takeru felt so useless: he couldn't even protect himself, much less the Digital World!

"It's not over yet!" a voice cried. "LIGHTNING PAW!"

The Knightmon only had time to look up for a second before a clawed fist slammed into its forehead, shattering the apparently fragile winged beetle attached there. For a moment the guarded teetered, and then fell backward; the kitty responsible for its defeat stood tall. She was wrapped in tan clothes and had a hood covering her head; she blew on her claws before turning to face Hikari and Takeru.

Hikari's face lit up. "Tailmon!"

She immediately dropped Takeru's hands and rushed over to her partner; she snatched Tailmon up and hugged her tightly, afraid that if she let go, she'd discover that Tailmon was only an illusion. Tailmon hugged back and solidified her reality.

"Hi, Hikari. Looks like you've been busy picking up the boys again." She gestured to the unmoving Knightmon. "It's not dead… see… remember that beetle on its face? That was what the Czar used to control it; it's a really fragile device and easy to break. But…"

That's when they heard it: the sharp clicking of a thousand mechanical wings.

"There is always a swarm ready to come down from those nests in the sky and replace the beetles that have been destroyed. Come on—quickly! We have to get out of sight." Tailmon bounded to a small formation of rocks near the structure. "LIGHTNING PAW!"

The rocks shattered and revealed an entrance: she motioned Hikari and Takeru to get inside. They hastily did so while Tailmon stayed a moment to cave in the hole with another well-placed attack. It was dark, but they continued to move deeper and deeper, only able to feel where they were going until they found a room lit by torches.

Takeru sat on the floor and rested his back against one wall; Hikari slid down next to him, trying to catch her breath again. Tailmon stood in front of them at the opposing wall where she scratched out one marks next to a slew of them.

"One more for me," Tailmon purred. When she turned, she saw their puzzled expressions and grinned. "Oh, Gomamon and I have a bet going on who can destroy the most beetles. … He's winning right now."

"So you know where the others are?" Takeru asked, sounding hopeful.

"Eh… yes. Most of them," she said hesitantly.

"Do you know where Patamon is?"

"Yes…" She wished that he would not press the matter any further. The thought of what had become of Patamon always disturbed her, especially when she had been there and still unable to prevent his fate. She hadn't been able to get to him in time—no one had been able to. But no one felt as guilty about it as she did.

"So where is he?"

"… Takeru," she sighed, closing her eyes. "He was captured by the Czar a few days ago. Patamon, Gomamon, Gabumon, and I were on a routine reconnaissance mission. Millenniumon told us that you were coming, so we thought that we should get as much information as we could for you…"

"Go on," Takeru said firmly. His mouth was as dry as cotton.

"… And the Czar's army ambushed us. We barely escaped with our hides attached. The last I saw of Patamon in the struggle—he—he was being dragged away by a Gazimon."

****

# # # #

Ichijouji Ken woke up. His head was throbbing and his eyes refused at first. He didn't know where he was. The last thing he remembered was the fight at the village, and—Motomiya! Where was he? Did he have him to thank for being saved from the Digimon? That seemed impossible.

Ken forced his eyes open and looked around. He was lying on the ground with his dirty Tamachi jacket and another shirt serving as a pillow. There was a pile of ashes next to him that could have once been a fire. But far as he could tell, he was alone. He didn't even see Wormmon nearby.

Had they all abandoned him? He rested his head against the makeshift pillow again and looked up at the sky where it was full of aerial bases this time. No, Wormmon would never leave his side! So he must be around somewhere… though his eyes showed him otherwise, and his ears could not detect even the pitter-patter of claws on the ground.

Ken thought back to Renamon's village. Motomiya had tried to stop him from slitting its throat; when he lowered his weapon, the villagers turned against him and attacked. After that there was only a hazy fog of images, most involving running through a decaying forest. Shouts and explosions. Searing heat brushed his face. And then darkness.

He always thought of himself as being alone; but he wasn't really. Wormmon was always there by his side, someone who was there for him when no one else wanted to be. Wormmon would always… would always… Ken's eyes started to fill; tears threatened to spill out onto his cheeks. He fought them back though he did not know why—it was pointless. He was alone. No one could see him cry.

"Oi, Wormmon! I think he's finally awake!"

A voice came from the trees to his left—and it was a familiar one. Ken wiped at his eyes and turned his head in that direction; a blurry, bobble-headed image of Daisuke came into view, and Ken squinted until things came into proper focus. He was grinning and being followed by Wormmon and Flamedramon.

"Motomiya…" Ken spoke tentatively, like a pensive child.

"Good morning—er…evening, Ken. I dunno what time it is, but at least you're awake again," Daisuke said and sat next to him. Flamedramon dropped a stack of wood onto the pile of ashes while Wormmon strategically placed dry leaves on and about it. "Sorry for disappearing on ya like that. The fire went down, so we found one a burnt-out signal fire to get this stuff to make another one."

"Where am I?" Ken asked.

"No idea, but we're pretty far from that village. They beat you up pretty good, but you're gonna be fine." Daisuke grinned. "I'm looking after ya now. You can trust me."

Ken shook his head. "We have to... get to one of the television sets and get back to the real world." When he tried to sit up, he was halted by Daisuke's hand when it planted firmly on his chest. He stared at the fingers touching him, and then traced them from wrist to arm to face: dark rings circled Daisuke's eyes, and he looked rather sickly…

"Come on, Ken, I don't have the energy to wrestle with you right now. Just lie right there and I'll take care of everything."

"When was the last time you slept, Motomiya?" Ken asked frostily.

"Eh… I dunno. Last night, I think."

"How much?"

"I can't count time in my sleep," Daisuke retorted.

"How much?"

"I don't know."

"How much?!"

"Quit asking me!" Daisuke shouted at him, irritated by these repeated questions.

Ken's eyes widened as he realized that Daisuke had not slept at all. That boy had stayed up all day and night to watch over him; no one had ever cared about his well-being this way, no one except Wormmon (and he trusted Wormmon)—Motomiya had no right to do that! They had just met, after all: how was he supposed to trust Motomiya so soon? Especially with something as important as protecting him while he slept?

"Get some sleep."

"I will when we get home," Daisuke said.

He removed his hand from Ken's chest and moved to the opposite side of the wood. Flamedramon tried carefully to light pieces of kindle on fire without causing the entire set-up to explode into a shower of splinters and ash.

"No, you'll do it right now! I don't want anyone to lose sleep over me. I'm not going to be in your debt, Motomiya. Now lie down and go to sleep."

"Quit being stupid, Ken. I'm not going to bed right now. Got other things to do."

"Like what?" Ken demanded.

"Carrying you to the nearest TV set and getting you home."

Ken's eyes narrowed into a glare. "No one is carrying me anywhere. I'll walk on my own under my own power."

"You didn't seem to mind me carrying you last night."

"I was unconscious!"

"Oh yeah… well, I could just wait for you to pass out again."

Daisuke's damned grin had come back; it spoke to Ken, telling him that he was fighting a battle he couldn't win. Ken lied flat on his back again, sighed, and watched as Flamedramon got the fire going again. Daisuke prodded its base with an extra stick half-heartedly.

"What are you going to tell your parents?" Ken asked slowly.

"Nothing. They probably haven't even noticed that I'm gone."

"How could they not notice? I'm sure they welcome the silence that comes when you're gone," Ken said, smirking—though that simper faded when the most unexpected answer returned to him: silence. Deafening silence. Daisuke truly frowned now as he studied the fire, and Ken felt his insides clench. "… I'm sorry, Motom—Daisuke."

"Hey! You used my name," Daisuke said as he brightened again; his grin came back.

Ken derived some comfort from that rebound, though somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that it was just a mask that Daisuke was wearing. Maybe there was more to this kid than he first thought? Maybe he wasn't the simpleton with a hero complex as he first appeared to be?

"Osamu—my brother—is probably worried about me. He'll let me hear all about it when I get home."

"At least you know he cares, right?" Daisuke said.

"Cares? No… he's just worrying because he'll get in trouble if I disappear."

Ken spat off to the side as though a sudden bad taste had come into his mouth. Daisuke sat impassively for a few moments; again, the silence almost frightened Ken. He just didn't like silences like that. It lingered only a while, though, and was punctuated by the wood pile's crackling.

At last, Daisuke replied: "That sucks."

"What do you know?!" Ken yelled. He glared at Daisuke and felt irrationally betrayed: he had told Daisuke something private, something intimate, and the only reply he could get was that 'it sucked'? The buzzing inside his head, previously put at bay, came back at full force. He turned his head away from Daisuke and the lightning split the sky only a mile away.

"… I know that you're not alone," said Daisuke.

"Nor are you, Chosen Child." A new voice joined them, and its owner stepped out of the shadows that had previously hidden him so well—even Flamedramon was taken by surprise. The newcomer smirked, eyes hidden beneath tinted blue glasses; Daisuke's own chocolate browns were reflected in the Czar's lenses. Flamedramon leapt in front of Daisuke and Ken protectively, but the Czar waved him away. "Call off your guard dog. I come only to talk."

"Yeah? And I come only to kick your ass!" Daisuke jumped up from his seated position.

"How... childish," the Czar chuckled. "It really pains me to see how low you've sunken, Ken, in choosing your new company. And you, Veemon... or Flamedramon, whichever you prefer, how could you replace me with that fool?"

Flamedramon replied with a growl.

"What do you want, Czar?" Ken grated.

"Ah, must I always want something? Maybe I just came by to say hello, to check up on you and see how you're doing. I mean, I can't just leave you in the hands of this barbarian without some kind of chaperon."

"I'll show you 'barbarian'! Flamedramon, roast him!" Daisuke took a step forward and pointed his finger at the Digimon Czar; however, Flamedramon didn't move a muscle. The Czar only smiled at this, and then shook his head. Daisuke was shocked with his partner's failure to follow his command: the Czar was dangerous and needed to be dealt with! He instead pushed past the Digimon irritably. "I'll take you on myself, then!"

"Daisuke, stop," Ken said; and Daisuke did. He grumbled and growled to himself, but he didn't move any further towards the Czar; he only glared and kept his hands tightly clenched by his sides. Ken spoke again: "Say whatever the hell you want to say, Czar, and then get the fuck out of here before I turn him lose on you."

"How touching," the Czar said and shook his head. "You know, Ken, I think I will accommodate you this time, seeing as you are injured and thus don't pose much of a threat to me. Oh wait—you didn't even when you were in perfect health. Aww. I can only imagine the frustration."

He laughed coldly. Ken didn't reply.

"Ken, I'll offer this to you one last time: join me."

The Czar extended his hand to the injured Chosen. Ken only stared at the impatiently twitching fingers. How many times had the Czar held out this offer, and how many times had he refused? Far too many… But this time, it seemed... different. There was true, sincere plea in his voice, as though he were wishing for someone to end his suffering.

"What makes you think I'll give you the answer you want this time, Czar?" Ken scoffed.

Daisuke quietly watched the exchange. His face, however, displayed an entirely different reaction: bands of red anger and green envy (for what he was not too sure) twisted and combined on his skin to create a warped version of Christmas coloration.

"You couldn't possibly consider really joining with these... morons! I'll even offer you this: join me, Ken, and I will undo what I've done to the Digital World. Everything will be free again, and the world will have its damned happy colors back. As disgusting as they were to look at, I will restore them for you. All you have to do is kill that boy and his friends. Think of it, Ken—everything you want would be granted." The Czar was practically begging. Oh, the humility of it; he dared not let Ken join the others. Only the shadow inside his head knew of true intentions.

Ken was quiet—too quiet for too long. Daisuke felt a shiver go down his spine. Would Ken really accept? Daisuke didn't want to think about the possibility of having to fight him. In fact, he didn't even know if he would be able to.

"No deal. You wouldn't ever let Ryo go, and that's something else I wish for. Get lost."

"How can you say that?! How can you flatly refuse an offer as good as that one? Isn't the freedom of this world worth the life of one boy? … Of course I wouldn't give Ryo up," the Czar screamed, "I need him to survive! You—of all people—should appreciate the will to survive!"

"I'll free this world from you, and I'll free Ryo too." Ken looked away from the Czar; his eyes found Daisuke. There was a smile lurking in them; perhaps it no more than a trick of the light, but it was there. Daisuke blinked, clueless. "I'm sure I'll succeed now."

The Czar sneered. "Don't grow too attached to your new-found friends, Ichijouji. They're not going to last much longer. That blonde and brunette almost died again today. Oh, I give them a few more visits at most. But you," he pointed at Daisuke, "will die first. And then this little game will be back between me and Ken. No more outside influence."

"Don't grow too attached to your new-found friends, Ichijouji. They're not going to last much longer. That blonde and brunette almost died again today. Oh, I give them a few more visits at most. But you," he pointed at Daisuke, "will die first. And then this little game will be back between me and Ken. No more outside influence."

"Ha, tough luck!" Daisuke said, his triumphant grin back. "We're gonna take everything you've done to the Digital World and fix it and make it right again! And then we'll come after you. You're a monster. You're going down!"

"We shall see." Then the Czar was gone, melting back into the shadows from whence he came.

"… Daisuke, give me your digivice." Ken said quietly once the enemy was gone.

"What? Why?" Daisuke said, confused.

"So you can't ever come back. I have to protect you, from him."

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Chapter Four Preview

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(A/N: This is a new section I'm adding. Enjoy. "--" indicates different speakers, or different scenes. However, you get to figure out whom is speaking. Some will, of course, be obvious.)

"The Czar's reality is crumbling. Soon, it will be my time."

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"Patamon! Patamon, I'm coming!"

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"Takeru! Wait for us! Daisuke! Takeru is running off on his own, can they handle things?"

"Follow him!"

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"I'm surprised. Though, I'm sure you didn't know it, but you only came all this way to die. Goodbye."

"NO! NO MORE KILLING!"

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"We've lost."

"So many... there was so many of them..."

"This is all your fault!"

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"I'm not... I'm not... I'M NOT EITHER ONE OF THEM!"

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"Daisuke, I'm sorry. I was... wrong. You're not like him. You're better. That's why he fears you."

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"Things are looking dim, eh Czar? I think you're starting to loose control. Gone a little nutso. What do you think?"

"Shut up! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!"

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"This is it."

**Edited by: M.C. Zarrella.**


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